


Born On A Monday

by RobinsGirlWonder



Series: The Sacrifice of Fate [2]
Category: Smallville, Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinsGirlWonder/pseuds/RobinsGirlWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Sam disappears to search for Ava, Dean and Chloe are thrown together again to hunt a monster through the swamps outside of Gotham City. In only seven days, what could possibly go wrong? Taking place just before SPN: Born Under a Bad Sign and during the events of SV: Patriot. Rated M for language/sexual tension/sexual situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all! I'M BACK! It's part 2 of the Sacrifice of Fate series! Sorry this took so long to get off the ground, but my life is a little crazy right now.This one is way more of a true hybrid of Supernatural and Smallville, so I decided to treat it a bit more like a Smallville episode format, with each chapter probably having a commercial break between. Mirrors and Dread felt much more like a two-part Supernatural sweeps episode. Thank you to EVERYONE tossed me kudos, it helped me keep going! Please Read and Review, they make me write faster! Hope you enjoy!

**Solomon Grundy  
** **Born on a Monday**

 

" _Then... bye, I guess." Dean's words had hurt, but Chloe's mask of cold held firm as the older Winchester stomped to his car and shut the door behind him. In a way, that had been her intention. It was entirely likely that she'd never see the Winchesters again after today, but she could feel that Darkness coming. Both of the brothers needed to be as prepared as they could be for the coming days. They would see far worse things than those girls they were able to bring to a final rest._

_Chloe turned her attention to Sam as he walked close, offering her her jacket in his hand. "Thanks." She smiled, taking it and giving it a onceover. "Bloodstains are hard to get out. But, I'm not ditching this jacket for anything." Her grin became a little more genuine as she looked up at Sam, only to fade again. His brow was furrowed, lips were pursed, he was clearly concerned. "What is it?"_

_Sam paused, swallowing, clearly debating what to say. "What happened back there..." He started, but words seemed to disappear. "I don't understand - "_

" _I'm not normal." Chloe chuckled, trying to allay his fears. Of course, she had a feeling he had several words running through his mind, and freak wasn't the least of them -_

" _Neither am I." Chloe paused, glancing up at him, her hair falling into her eyes again. Relief had washed over his face at the sudden admission from his lips. Not that Chloe necessarily knew what it meant, but, she'd never judged anyone just for being different. But, if he'd been different because he was a meta or a meteor freak, he could've told her at any time. "I think there's something wrong with me. And, I wanted to talk about it, but I guess... trusting people's gotten a little harder recently." A breathy laugh escaped his lips, one of half-shock. "Which is... so weird. Dean's normally the one telling me not to trust anyone."_

" _Sam, whatever it is, you can talk to me." Chloe's hair tickled at her cheek as a gentle breeze blew through the trees._

" _Yeah..." Sam's fingers brushed against her cheek to tuck her hair behind her ear, and Chloe felt her heart skip a beat for just a second. "I guess I can." She smiled, but she felt her stomach flip for just a moment. It felt like Oliver._

_She didn't know how she felt about that._

_The blast of the Impala's car horn made her jump, and she chuckled, rolling her eyes. She tried to ignore the way her heart twisted in concern for the two brothers. A month together, and she wanted nothing more than to hop in the car and go with them on their next adventure. But, she knew what she had to do now. Fate had shown her. Lois. Clark. Sam. Dean. Oliver. They all died without the Touch of Fate._

" _You should probably get going," Chloe grinned, motioning to the car. "I think Dean's gonna blow a gasket."_

" _Want a ride?" Sam motioned with his thumb to the car behind him, but she shook her head._

" _No, thanks. I think I've upset him enough today." Chloe's own harsh words had left a bad taste in her mouth, and she'd wanted nothing more than to take them back, to tell Dean he had done everything he could and that it was okay to feel guilty. "The last thing I need to do is to poke the sleeping dragon."_

" _Well, you have our number. Call us if you need us."_

" _I will."_

Sam's phone went right to voicemail.

"This is Sam. Leave a message."

An hour from Gotham, the rental car Chloe had boosted was flooring it at 105 MPH on the main highway. Well, to be fair, she hadn't necessarily boosted it. Her trip to Hub City had been cut irrevocably short so she couldn't return it, as Diana was sidetracked dealing with some purple-haired hooker calling herself "The Sorceress of Aeaea" and Chloe had been hit with another bolt of inspiration, thanks to Fate.

_**It comes. In the filth of Gotham.**_ Fate's words had pulsed through Chloe's mind and her blood ever since she left Hub and checked a few news reports in Gotham City. The headlines piqued her reporter's curiosity, sure, but it was the talk of a monster raging through Slaughter Swamp, leaving two escaped Arkham inmates naked and traumatized that kept her attention. _ **The Fate of the Sentient Power rests in seven days.**_

"Sam, pick up your phone." Chloe's eyes scanned the rear view mirror, giving another cursory check for sirens and lights. "It's your favorite Leggy Blonde, and I could use a little assistance from the best Hunters I know. I'm really hoping you didn't switch phones  _again_  and forget to tell me. It's hard to work my Beethoven-like skills on a keyboard while I'm living life in the fast lane." No sirens or lights. Good. Chloe kept the speedometer climbing as she spoke. "Call it reporter's instinct, but I have a feeling the two of you might've already heard about the thundering monster outside of Gotham City. I think it's your kind of gig, and I need your help tracking this thing." She paused again, lowering the phone a bit before raising it back up to speak. "Tell Dean it's about the Blur."

She tapped her smartphone to end the call, then tucked the phone in the breast pocket of her black jacket. While she'd spoken to Sam once or twice more in the month since leaving Delight, she hadn't really spoken to Dean except in third-person communication, as Sam passed along information. After that first week with Diana, unable to call Sam back, she was concerned they wouldn't talk to her at all. Dean certainly seemed ready to write her off. She'd even overheard him tell Sam that he didn't want to talk to her, since she was "an ungrateful, secretive woman that wasn't worth anyone's time".

Chloe tried not to take it personally. Success in a plan of this magnitude often came at the cost of friendships and lovers. She knew that. Her hesitation to act had almost led to the death of her cousin, and that could  _not_  happen. Not only was Lois a lynchpin in Chloe's life, in Clark's life, she was part of the Path. If she hadn't intercepted the original transmission and set it in place to be picked up by Watchtower, the plan probably would have gone off without a hitch, Lois would be dead, and Chloe would be facing a world without the one woman Clark needed more than anyone else. That The Blur needed.

Of course, nothing about this would help if the Winchesters  _didn't pick up their phones_.

Chloe took an exit ramp to cross onto another highway and pulled her phone free. "Well..." She whispered, glancing at the name on the top of her contacts list. "Guess you better brush off that Sullivan charm."

 

" _Ramble on...And now's the time, the time is now... Sing my song..._ "

Dean grabbed for his phone on the nightstand, reaching across the bed to do so. That better be Sammy. Sammy owed him one helluva explanation for the bullshit note he left on the motel table...

"Yello." Dean answered as he settled with a pillow under one arm while he lay on his stomach. After finding out that Sam had ditched him, Dean had gotten as far as pulling on jeans and a T-shirt, and one boot, which was hanging off of his foot at the moment.

"Wow. You picked up." That voice was - "I didn't expect that." Chloe. Chloe Sullivan. Blondie. Leggy Blonde. The woman who had been in just about every dream Dean had had in the last month, and he hated it, because he couldn't understand  _why_. The woman who had been talking to his brother off and on for the last month, and that drove Dean  _almost_  as nuts as the fact that the last time he'd seen that woman, he didn't care how hot she was, she was giving him a lecture about how he needed to basically be a heartless douchebag. About  _kids_.

Why did he pick up again?

"Chloe." Dean made sure to keep the nicknames out of his head. He didn't need his downstairs brain to start thinkin'. He opened his mouth to speak, then paused and shut it again. Why the hell was she callin'? He thought she was pretty clear last time that she had pretty much gotten her fill of them. Well, no. Dean grimaced. She got enough of him. Apparently, Chloe and her brother were practically BFFs with their Bedazzlers now.

"Yes... that would be my name." Fuck, she sounded chipper. Falsely so. Chipper like the mornings he'd bring her coffee and had already started researching two hours before them and why the  _fuck_  was he thinking about that? "Dean, I know you're still there. I can hear you breathing."

Dean sniffed some, clearing his sinuses and rolling onto his back so he could sit up and start to fix his boot. "Yeah, I'm here. Just tryin' to figure out why you're callin' me? I thought Samantha was your bestie-biffle now."

"Sam isn't picking up his phone." Worry for his brother settled into the pit of Dean's stomach. Not talking to him he could understand, but not talking to his pseudo-girlfriend? Yeah, something was up with Sammy. "To be fair, we've been playing phone tag for a week or two now, but I figured I'd just bite the bullet and go to you."

Dean smirked, even though no one else could see it. "Couldn't stay away, huh?"  _Dude, the fuck. This is_ _ **not**_ _the time to flirt with this girl. She's buckets 'o' crazy, you know that!_  Sometimes, Dean's downstairs brain actually shocked him. This was one of those times. He was worried about his brother, and he was still angry with Chloe on a visceral level that made no sense.

"Right." Chloe's voice was an infuriating mix between mirth and sarcasm, and Dean found the desire to flirt getting stomped down pretty effectively. But, you know what?  _Fine_. He didn't need to flirt with the Leggy Blonde. "Point being, I did call for a reason. There's something going on in Gotham, and I think the two of you would be interested - "

"Y'know what, Chlo? I don't actually think Sammy and I need you to tell us where to find our cases." Dean's mouth began to run away with him before he could stop it, and he honestly wasn't sure he wanted to. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been ungrateful, hard, cold and more than a little loony. It didn't matter that he'd been dreaming almost disgustingly domestic things about her that would turn pleasantly un-domestic. "We got our own things to do, so we're just gonna go ahead and run with that. You want help, you can call your cape friends."  _Like Oliver freakin' Queen._  "I'm sure they don't care if a few kids get hit in the crossfire."

Dean hung up the phone just as a stone dropped in his stomach. That last one had been harsh. Real harsh.  _But not too harsh._  He told himself as he held the phone in his hand, staring at it as if it would ring again. Nah, not too harsh at all. She deserved it. If she could be a heartless bitch who told him what he was supposed to think, then he could call her on it.

He felt his phone buzz in his hand, and the strains of Zeppelin began again. Unbe-freakin-lievable. Dean flipped it open with a huff, a retort already on his lips. "You got a problem hearin' things, Blondie - "

"Dean?" Sammy. Oh, Jesus tap-dancing Christ, his brother was okay. Well, for now. When he got back to the motel, that would be a different story. Dean didn't care if he was taller, he could still kick his ass for bein' a punk.

"Sammy? Where the hell are you?" Dean immediately raced to the motel room window, as if his oaf of a brother was about to come walking up to the door. Naturally, all he saw was the Impala with its new plates and an otherwise empty parking lot in their motel outside of Gotham City. Dean  _hated_  Gotham. Place gave him the creeps.

"I'm in Bludhaven. I got a lead on Ava, so I wanted to follow it." Sam sounded so totally fuckin' chill. Fuckin'  _really?_  Dean's heart had jumped to his throat the moment he realized his brother was missing, and here Sam was, happy as you please, hanging out in one of the most crime-ridden cities in America.

" _What?_  And you didn't think maybe you could tell me before you just fucked off, Jumbo?" Dean let his frustration about both his brother, and now, Chloe's annoying call, to bleed through while he tried to give his brother the kind of tongue-lashing that would send him right back here. "You know who runs off to Bludhaven? The same kind of people who run off to Hub City.  _Crazy_  people!" He turned away from the window to march over to where his other boot was still on the floor, sitting down so he could slip it on. "You don't think maybe I'd wanna know where you were, dude? It's not like we haven't been looking for her - "

"But we haven't, Dean." Sam's voice had grown hard, serious.

Dean stopped trying to put on his shoe, sitting up with a furrowed brow and confused to all hell look on his face. "Excuse me?"

"We haven't been looking for Ava, Dean. We were up until we ran into Chloe, and then we got caught up with that  _stupid_  Shapeshifter." Sam sounded pissed off, and Dean's hackles practically rose. Really? Was he really that pissed off because they hadn't devoted every second to this woman? They'd been looking, but it was kinda hard to find her when they didn't have a single goddamn lead. "She's still out there, Dean. I have to find her."

_Don't bite his head off, don't bite his head off, don't bite his head off -_ "So, what? You're just gonna leave instead of us going to find her together?"  _Good job, genius._  "I fail to see how that's gonna help, either."

Sam sighed, the bitchface radiating through the phone so badly that Dean grimaced. "I didn't tell you because I knew you wouldn't want to. This lead's kinda spotty. At best."

"So don't follow it." Dean's matter-of-fact tone probably didn't help the situation, but he wasn't known for lying when he was so sure he was right.

"See, that's exactly why I figured I'd tackle this solo! I'm not gonna pass up on a lead if it means we could find her, however small the chance." Dean reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on as his brother continued to just spew whining all over the place. "Look, Dean, you don't have to like it, but there was a time when you hunted without me. That's all this is. I'm just running down a lead, I'll be back in a couple of days." Dean felt a stab in his gut as he suddenly found himself remembering that time Sam had run away to Flagstaff. This felt only marginally better. "It's not a big deal. If I  _really_  find something, I'll call you for backup." Dean was silent as he glanced down at his shoe, debating exactly what to say to him, trying to stomp down the instinct to protect his brother that he really liked to ignore. "Dean, go do something. Take a case,  _don't_  take a case, go find a pretty blonde or something, I don't care."

"I thought you were the one who had a thing for blondes lately," Dean grumbled, knowing exactly what he was implying.

"What?" Sam's voice pitched up an octave, but Dean was too annoyed to make a good bitch joke. "Wait, is this about Chloe?"

"No!" Dean sounded just as affronted by the suggestion as Sam had. "Why the hell would I care what you do with that Ice Princess?"

"I didn't ask if you cared about what I do with Chloe. I'm flat out noting that you've acted like a surly asshole since we left Delight, and I know it's not because of me." Sam's frustration had apparently turned to bitchtasticly delicious haughtiness. Dean rolled his eyes. _Whoop-de-do._  "She's been blowing up my phone. Call her, find out what she wants. It'll keep your mind off of what I'm working on."

"I think I know how to occupy myself without your input, Sammy." Dean scoffed, balking at the very notion of calling that stubborn, stuck-up, misguided -

"You keep doing that and you're gonna get a cramp in your hand."

" _Really_ , Sammy? You don't think I have  _other_  things to do with my day?" Dean shot back, only to realize how quickly that would turn against him. "Don't answer that." He huffed, trying to figure out what to do from here. Sam wasn't gonna come back. He should probably just go to Bludhaven and join him.

"I gotta go, Dean. I've got a contact to meet." Sam's voice became hurried, but not panicked or upset. Knowing his little brother, he probably just saw some mark he needed to con for information. "Call Chloe, don't call Chloe, it's up to you, but she wouldn't keep calling if she didn't have something important to say." Sam paused. "She's still the woman you got to know, Dean. You didn't have to shut her out." Dean opened his mouth, ready to tell his brother to fuckin' get his stupid girly nose out of his business - "Gotta go. I should be back Thursday."

His punk-ass brother hung up on him. Dean narrowed his eyes, looking at his phone as if it had bitten him. "Well, that's just  _great_ , Sammy..." He rumbled, shaking his head at his brother's utter stupidity. It wasn't that he didn't think Sam could take care of himself - within reason - it was that he really didn't seem to want Dean's help. What the hell? Since when?

Dean's expression turned from belligerent to reflect worry, concern, and a little fear. Ever since he'd met Ava, he and Sammy had been distancing each other. They'd work together, live together, eat together, but... it just hadn't felt right. The last time he'd actually felt like he and his brother were in sync was back in Delight with...

Chloe.

Fuck. What was it with this chick that made her so impossible to forget?

Dean reached up to scratch at a bit of stubble, staring at his phone in his hand. Nothin' about Chloe Sullivan made sense. She'd had the technical know-how to get their new numbers when they'd had to ditch everything after the Shapeshifter, she knew about the VRA before it had gotten released to the press, she dated the Green fuckin' Arrow, and here she was... calling him and his brother.  _Why_? What made them so special? Aside from her investigative skills, her hacking skills, the addiction with coffee and the fact that she wavered from knowing how to use a gun to not knowing how to use it, he couldn't see the connection. When you knew the Blur, how did you justify needing a couple of unimportant Hunters for a gig?

Fuckin' curiosity. It was a good thing Dean didn't own a cat, or it woulda lost its nine lives a long time ago.

Dean scrolled through his recent call lists, covering his mouth with his hand and letting out a deep breath as he hit the "Call" button on his phone. This was such a bad idea.

This was Cassie levels of a bad idea.

The phone in his ear rang twice before he heard it pick up, catching the barest hint of music playing before it suddenly cut off. Was that Blue Oyster Cult?

"Dean? You... you called me back?" Chloe sounded a little less chipper now. She actually sounded worried. Not much, but he'd been tongue-lashed by her enough that he now knew the difference between chipper, worried, and nervous. This felt a bit like the last two. That and she didn't seem to actually think he'd call her.  _Of course, why wouldn't I call her, she's the Leggy Blonde, I'm her big damn hero_  - Dean stopped that train of thought before it got off track.  _Pissed off! Dammit, Winchester!_

"Yeah, well, Sammy just whined all over the place, cause apparently you don't leave him alone." Dean could hear the flirt leaking through with every word, and no matter what he did, he couldn't seem to make it shut the fuck up.

"Uh-huh." Chloe's disbelief was practically tangible. "Sam whined to you about me."

"You were blowin' up his phone. And mine." Okay, he needed to get off this quickly derailing train of thought before she got the mistaken impression that he'd called for anything other than a case. "So, spill, Velma. Whaddya got for us?"

"Well... I hope you're sitting, McQueen." Dean rolled his eyes, casually strolling past his bed as he listened. "I need your help hunting a monster. How close are you to Gotham?"

Dean stopped.

That woman was gonna get him into trouble.


	2. Tuesday

**Solomon Grundy  
** **Born on a Monday  
** **Christened on Tuesday**

The Gotham Gazette folded in half so that she could read just the front page blurb about the lead writer on the byline, a cup of decaf coffee in her right hand, and her blonde hair framed her face in all the right ways as a gentle cool breeze whipped through the streets. Chloe Sullivan looked just like a slice of heaven. Her eyes were narrowed slightly, her bangs were brushing across her cheeks in a way that made Dean's fingers twitch, and in that black leather jacket and blue jeans, Dean found himself noting that she didn't seem to have changed a bit. She would've felt just the same if he'd swept her off that railing now as he had over a month ago.

Well, that settled it. Didn't matter if a month  _had_  passed, Chloe Sullivan was still the Leggy Blonde that Dean found himself really wanting to notch in his bedpost. That was probably the problem, too. If he'd just worked it out of his system, he'd be fine. Better than fine. He'd be off to the next great adventure.

Of course, telling himself that was way easier than trying to convince the rest of his body to agree and chill out. As he walked across the busy street, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, his charm casually bouncing against his chest on his navy blue shirt, Dean tried to clamp down on his anger and frustration. Sam had dumped this blonde on him again. Not just any blonde - oh,  _no_ , that would be too freakin' easy. It had to be the Leggy Blonde. The one that was feeling less and less like the One Who Got Away and more like the Bullet Dodged. Somewhere, deep down, Dean knew that he had been overly harsh on Chloe, that her "harsh reality" was just her own stupid point of view, and even if she was gonna be a cynical, heartless ice princess, that wasn't Dean. But, she couldn't  _just_  be an ice princess. Hence the feeling a little, tiny bit bad about being angry at her.

Not enough to stop his mouth from running right away with him, regardless of whether or not he'd planned on flirting with her.

"Still cute, still likes her coffee." Dean quipped as he stepped up behind her and around the table out on the sidewalk. He might've been flirting. Maybe. But it didn't feel like it. It felt more like he was a step away from telling her to get up and walk away. What the fuck was it with him? What about Chloe made him want to keep as much distance between them as possible?

Chloe glanced up from her paper, and those analytical, inquisitive, piercing eyes were on him for the first time in a month. Not for the first time this morning, he found himself thinking of the last few times he'd seen her: she'd been in a helluva lot less clothing and those eyes were clouded over with lust and...  _Confusing dream with reality, Dean._

"Wow," Chloe smiled as Dean came around from behind her so he could see her fully. "That's a much friendlier greeting than I expected. Who are you and what have you done with Dean Winchester?"

Dean chuckled a little, but it was that chuckle that had no mirth, only disdain that someone had - for just a second -  _possibly_  gotten one over on him. Not that that ever happened. Dean was a fuckin'  _fox_. "That's, heh, that's funny." He took a seat across from her, trying to get rid of that same feeling he'd had the  _first_  time he'd run into her at a coffee shop. That feeling like he was never quite on stable footing. "For the record," He grumbled as he leaned forward, his elbows on the iron wrought table. "If I was a demon, you'd just have to say  _Christo_."

" _Christo._ " Chloe replied, an eyebrow arching in a patented expression of skepticism. After a long moment, she shrugged and tilted her head a little. "Hm." She took a sip of her coffee, and Dean's brow furrowed. What the fuck, where was this aloof, skeptical BS coming from? "You didn't think maybe I'd want to know that when we were romping around with the Countess of Blood?" There was a quirk at the side of her lips, threatening to tug into a smile.

Oh,  _great_. Just what he needed. She was  _playing_  at  _being aloof._  Because the big fuckin' neon sign that said  **"WOMAN OF MYSTERY"** over her head wasn't enough. "Not really effective on ghosts. I said  _demons_." Dean suddenly found himself wondering if she'd actually learned  _anything_  from him. And Sammy. But, Sammy was only really good at teaching people how to whine.

"Right, gotcha. Ghosts hate salt and iron. Even revenants." Chloe chuckled, nodding slowly before she took another sip of coffee. She didn't speak, she was just... watching him. God, she was infuriating.

So, naturally, Dean looked everywhere  _else_ , his eyes scanning the surrounding area as though he was surveilling it for a threat. To be fair, he was. She'd mentioned something about hunting a monster, and, well... Dean Winchester. Hunter Extraordinaire. The whole FBI problem wasn't exactly making him feel all that terribly comfortable outside, either.

"Look, you said you had a case, so let's talk about the case before I get arrested." Dean groused as a patrol car rounded the corner on the street beside them. He quickly reached up, scratching at the back of his head, obscuring view of his face from the officers in the vehicle, but that settled it. He was gonna go stir crazy. There were  _no_  magic fingers back at their motel, Sammy had fuckin' ditched him, and he was so worried about that that he couldn't even enjoy God's gift to every man in the morning!

The light smack of the newspaper hitting the table in front of him made Dean finally look at Chloe, only for her to motion with a flick of her eyes to the paper itself. "Check out the headline."

Dean cautiously took the paper and held it up a bit so he could read it, even as he hunkered over the table. Immediately, any concern about whether or not he was going to bed the Blonde across from him vanished. In bold, large block letters across the top of the Gotham Gazette were the words  _ **"MYSTERIOUS MONSTER RAGES THROUGH SLAUGHTER SWAMP - MULTIPLE INJURIES REPORTED.**_ "

"That sounds ominous..." Dean grumbled to himself as he kept reading. A group of teens in the woods had been camping and - "Fuckin' really?" Dean looked up at Chloe, disbelieving. "Kids camping in the woods? We're chasing Voorhees?"

Chloe smirked, the barest of a chuckle escaping her lips. She was  _enjoying_  this. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't remember Voorhees having a fetish for stealing boys' pants and then running away?"

Dean blinked, his jaw a little slack. His interest was now piqued in all the wrong ways, and he glanced down at the newspaper, scanning the article with all the enthusiasm of a frat boy. "No way, seriously? We have a pervy monster?"

"That, or, we have a bunch of kids who got caught quite literally with their pants down and needed a cover story." Chloe winced a little, her nose scrunching up just the slightest. Dean was suddenly reminded of the last time he'd seen her nose scrunch up like that, and there had been a beach and the smell of sunscreen and -  _Confusing dream with reality. Again, Dean._ "I dunno about you, but it still sounds fishy. Even if they were just taking a walk on the wild side with the Bacchae, I don't know how that would result in some of their injuries."

Dean finished scanning the article, frowning and glancing up at her. "Injuries aren't listed. I take it you - " Chloe pulled free a tablet from the bag he didn't realize was under the table. With a quick swipe of her fingers, she turned and spun it to face him. Doctor's records. "That is..." Dean was genuinely impressed, which, of course, made him wish that he  _had_  taken advantage of the quiet time back at the motel this morning and hadn't been such a fuckin' girly mess. "You could charm the right kind of man right into bed with that, you know that?" Dean's frustration and anger at the situation surrounding the Countess had completely faded from his mind. Not surprising, as his anger, while he always thought it was directed at Chloe, really wasn't.

"I have a unique set of skills, Mister Winchester. Skills I have acquired over a very busy career." Chloe's smile had turned downright mischievous, less guarded. He hadn't seen her that way since before the Countess took her. To be honest, he figured she'd always be locked down around him now. "You might be drooling, Dean."

"Huh?" Dean had been staring, and he cleared his throat, throwing on a patented smirk of his, shrugging some. "Heh, well, y'know, it's been a long month."

Chloe's expression shifted slightly, an eyebrow quirking. "I guess so."

Dean forced himself to look back down at the tablet. She had given him a case, so life would be infinitely better if he just focused on that. His two comfort zones were bedding chicks and solving cases. One of those was definitely  _not_  going to happen today. A cursory look at the medical documents she'd swiped – he had no idea how, but he had a feeling it involved her techno-mojo – and something caught his eye. Something more Supernatural than high school prank. "One of them had a broken arm that had a handprint on it? Like… Sasquatch big?" No way. Dean and his dad had once done the Sasquatch hunt thing: there was no way he'd be so lucky to bag Bigfoot now.

"That's what I was thinking." Chloe agreed as she polished off her cup of coffee. "The kids said that what attacked them was a giant pale thing. Said he had white hair, but I don't think they meant his whole body."

Dean snorted some. "That or it's an albino Bigfoot. Oh, wait, no, he rides in my car and smells when he eats burritos."

Without hesitation, that delicious giggle of Chloe's filled the air. Wow, he hadn't heard that in a while. Had he  _ever_ been angry with her? It wasn't an uproarious laugh, but the tension had certainly left for the moment. It was weird. It was just like when he'd met her. That instant feeling that he needed to protect her, even though she didn't need protection, and that he needed to make her laugh. It was definitely above his pay grade, that was for sure.

He needed to stop thinking about it. His smile that matched hers faded a little.

"Anyway," Dean tore his eyes from her, looking back at the reports in hand. "What were these 50s throwbacks doing in the middle of a swamp? Who goes to a swamp? It's  _Gotham_ , there's gotta be a lookout point somewhere  _else._ "

"Oh, that's easy," Chloe's hand came into view as she grabbed the Gazette, opening it to the rest of the article somewhere on the inside. "It's haunted." Dean glanced up at her, skepticism practically radiating. She smirked. "Supposedly."

"Okay," Dean held a hand up as his ego practically guffawed at her. "Let's, heh, let's get something straight. You called  _me. I_  am the Hunter, so  _I_  will decide if something is or is not haunted." Chloe rolled her eyes at his bravado, but he continued on, thoroughly convinced that between him rescuing her ass and this meeting, she'd forgotten which Winchester was in front of her. He was not a whiny pansy bitch like his brother. "When I find out that there's a giant robot trampling through, I don't know,  _Metropolis_ , that's turning everyone into techno-zombies, then  _I_ will call  _you_  and you get to tell me what is or is not a robot-zombie."

Chloe paused, eyebrows raised in a move that he was sure he'd seen himself make a million times. Not fair, that was  _his_ patented expression of disbelief and derision. She didn't get to do that. "Okay, Doctor, back off. If there are Cybermen, I will be the faithful companion and let you know as soon as possible."

Dean pointed at her, his expression serious. "You know that's an urban legend, right? I wanna find the guy who came up with the idea of turning that into a TV show, because, he has made my job  _so_ much harder."

The blonde across from him scoffed a little. "Wait, what?"

"Do you know how many ghosts and poltergeists and other millions of supernatural entities that died between 1960-something and now that use imagery from the Doctor?" Dean huffed, growling. "Drives me  _batty_."

"Dean, I don't think anyone actually has to  _drive_  you – "

"Okay, enough distractions." Dean stood, grabbing the Gazette and handing Chloe back her tablet. "Let's blow this pop stand."

Chloe stood to follow him, stuffing her tablet back in her black messenger bag and putting it back on. "I assume that means the new documents I got for you and Sam worked out okay?"

Dean turned to walk back the way he came once he knew that she was following, then thought better of it. He could practically hear his brother tsking about being rude. Seriously? It was like the moment Sammy was gone, Dean's mind filled that gap with extra bitchfacing. He stepped to the side as Chloe's pace matched his, if only because he was taking normal steps and not having to catch up with Jumbo all the time. "Yeah, we swapped plates and everything." He glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow. "Thought Sammy woulda told you all that."

"He did." Chloe's response gleaned another confused look from him. "I wanted to see if you would."  _Oh, for fuck's sake_  – "Let's be honest, Dean. You haven't spoken to me since we left Delight. I didn't expect you to  _actually_  talk to me. If anything, I was pretty sure you were still going to bail for this monster mash."

Okay, he had really not wanted to have to think about it too much. He really didn't. Unfortunately, if they were gonna have to work together to find this thing, he would have to at least admit that he could  _do_  that. He didn't necessarily have to tell her  _why_. He didn't even afford Sammy that much leeway. "Yeah, well, that was then. This is now. I don't do the whole grudge thing. Life's too fuckin' short." No sooner than the words left his mouth, he found himself thinking about his dad. Life was too damn short. His dad had made plenty of mistakes. Again, Dean found himself secretly wondering what being just like his father would cost him in the end.

"So, what, that's it?" Chloe reached up to brush strands of her straight blonde hair out of her eyes. Dean found himself thinking back to how many times he'd imagined her doing that in the last month.  _Fuck you, dreams! Not helping!_ "You avoid me for a month and now…. What, we're cool? You're actually going to help me with this?"

As the two of them walked the block to his motel, Dean realized two things: 1) Chloe was not a Hunter, even if she'd picked up some stuff and had gotten involved with the Countess and 2) She didn't have a car. Or anything other than what he saw. That was odd. "Yeah, course I'm gonna help," He replied, even though he was clearly distracted putting together questions to ask her when they got back to the motel. Well, she wasn't possessed. He'd done that test when he first arrived. His EMP reader in his pocket never went off, so, no ghost possession. So, why was Chloe in the middle of another supernatural situation? Didn't she have some capes she was supposed to be looking after? Especially since that VRA had passed just yesterday.

He didn't expand on his offer to help, instead walking in silence with her across the street as they made it to the motel he was camped out in. The Impala was parked outside, and just knowing it was there without a ticket, without GCPD around, made him relax a little more. Sammy might not be talking to him, but at least the car was there if he needed to go play hero for his brother.

"Well," Chloe offered as she headed into the first floor room with him. "I got here as soon as I could, so I'm glad you were already here. Call me crazy, but I have a gut feeling this is important."

Dean frowned as he dropped his keys off on the desk near the door, waiting until the door shut behind them before turning to face her, stripping off his leather jacket. "I think I'm gonna call you crazy." He reasoned before walking over to the mini-fridge and pulling a beer for himself, popping it open on the edge of the table. He was midway through closing it before he grabbed another, popping it open and walking over to hand it to Chloe. He'd gotten within arm's reach of her before he realized what he was doing, and if she hadn't grabbed the bottle, he would've pulled it back. As it stood, she grabbed the bottle while giving him a quizzical look, the kind that he'd figured out a while ago meant she wanted him to expand upon whatever he was thinking. "Aside from the handprint, we still got bubkus." Wait a sec.  _Fuck that_ , why was he doin' all the talking? She wanted him to work with her, she needed to come clean. About a lot of shit, not the least of which being why she was really interested. "But, hold up. Back the train up a station." Dean took a long swig of beer, then pulled out the desk chair and flipped it around so he could straddle it. "Start with why you even care about this. You said you work for the Blur – "

" _Worked_. Past tense – "

"Point is, you do the whole capes thing. Fightin' crime, takin' out weird shit, sure, but you were real damn clear that you don't normally touch supernatural stuff. You said it yourself, you didn't expect to get involved with the Countess, but since you were, you wanted to help. So… what?" He rested the bottle on the back of the chair, spinning it slowly with his hand. "Now you're suddenly a Hunter's Girl Friday?"

Chloe rolled her eyes and took a seat on the bed, sipping the beer with that sort of understated grace he'd noticed she had. It was weird, almost like she didn't realize she was graceful and not just a nerd full of supernatural and superhero trivia. "It's not that simple." She sighed, shaking her head. "Look, before I met you and Sam, I'd had my fair share of run-ins with ghosts, witches, and even zombies. But, the difference was that I didn't have a knowledge base. It doesn't mean that if I get a... hunch – " Why would she hesitate over that? "That something's going on, I'm not going to follow it. I'd do the same if it was a criminal ring and I needed someone like the Blur."

"So, what? Now I'm part of your little League of Justice?" Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes. He didn't believe her, not for a second. There was another reason she was here, and now his curiosity had piqued enough to tell him to follow that instinct and find out what it was. Well… guess he really  _was_  gonna have to work with her on this.

"I wouldn't go so far as to call them a 'League' of anything," Chloe sighed, her expression falling. Dean's mirth died a little as he realized he'd hit a sore subject without even realizing it. "They barely came together last year, and I'm afraid they might be falling apart all over again. I'm…" She glanced up at Dean, smiling a little. "I'm asking for your help because I know I can count on you. Dean, you might not like what we last said to each other, but I  _know_  you're good at what you do. Better than good. I really want your help on this."

That sounded a lot like she was trying to give him some sort of consolation prize, and Dean was gonna have  _none_  of that. "Look, each case is its own thing, okay? Unless they're _actually_  related, then I'm gonna treat this like anything else. You brought it to my attention, I'm gonna hunt this thing and bury it. If you were just some civilian – which you pretty much are – then I'd be handling it the same way. Just with an alias."

Chloe's brow furrowed as she picked up on his unspoken response to her offer. "Woah, hang on a second. Arsenal or not, you're not tackling this thing without me. You and I are going to work together on this."

Dean laughed humorlessly, taking another swig of beer. "Uh, no. No, we're not. My partner is on another case, but I don't need an equally girly fill-in."

"So, are you saying that because I have different parts than you I'm not  _qualified_?" Dean's jaw dropped as Chloe's stance went to the defensive.

"I… what?" He laughed, trying to recover. "That's not – I mean, you're girly, and, y'know, Sam's girly, and I just - I don't – " Dean paused, clearing his throat and holding his hand up. "Okay,  _point is_ , not that you're not qualified, but that you came to me, so we're gonna do it  _my way_."

"You are not the Lone Ranger, Dean, so, if you want to be in charge of this, that's fine." Chloe's voice was even, apparently satisfied that he wasn't trying to insult her like a sexist ass. He wasn't sexist. He completely appreciated women, both those that could and could not kick his ass. "But, you're not leaving me behind."

"You're gonna have to  _listen_  to me and do what I tell you. Can you do that?" It was a legitimate request. The situation with the Countess had been awkward, with a whole month and a half of learning how to work out a dynamic with Chloe in the middle. It had been great right up until the Countess had taken her. Then, Chloe had suddenly become determined to prove herself somehow, leaving Dean to try and pick up on very misleading cues. "I can't have you just barging off in front of me, I get that enough with Sammy, and he's my  _brother_. I know  _everything_ about that kid."

There was silence for a few moments as Chloe stared at her beer, almost as if the answer was written there. He'd meant what he said. If this was gonna be like Jo and H.H. Holmes, he was gonna be better off doing the hunt completely solo. "Can you do that?" Dean reiterated, trying to get her to look at him. "You gotta be my Sidekick on this one."

Chloe stood suddenly, her expression something he hadn't seen before. It was… he didn't know. Was heartsick an expression? He was pretty sure he'd had it before. He opened his mouth, wondering if he should take it back, even if he didn't know what "It" was to take back. Instead, nothing came out, he found himself just waiting for her next move.

After a long moment, she finally turned to look at him, her expression having steeled again slightly. "You got it." Her voice sounded hollow, like she was agreeing but it suddenly wasn't important anymore. "You take lead on this, and I will follow you."

Dean couldn't help but smile with relief. That was not a fight he'd really wanted to have for a  _second_  time in the last few months. Chloe might act older than she was, but Dean knew she was closer to Sam's age than his. He couldn't really bank on her ability to think clearly. "Okey-dokey. Then," He stood and put the beer aside, its purpose forgotten while he considered the best way to start this hunt. "Let's go over the Doctor's records and we need to see where in the Swamp they were hanging out."

"Okay, well, that's easy enough." Chloe handed her messenger bag to him, making him hold it while she pulled free the tablet and a laptop. "Here's the records. I'll grab the map location."

"Good." Dean set the bag down when she was finished with it. "Cause first thing's first. We're gonna go tromp around its stomping grounds."

" _Hot town, summer in the city, back o' my neck getting' dirt' 'n' gritty…"_

Dean switched off the Lovin' Spoonful as the Impala rolled slowly off of the already winding road on the outskirts of Gotham and down the private drive that those ten high schoolers had taken to get to Slaughter Swamp. His headlights flooded the area with light, but that didn't really seem to help him get his bearings. He glanced over at Chloe, whose intensely focused face was illuminated by the light of her laptop as she looked over the map.

"So, according to the police report, it looks like they were in a section of the Swamp called Gold Lagoon." Chloe motioned to the left, pointing out a graveled path that seemed to make its way deeper into this muggy, gross place.

"That doesn't sound so bad," Dean mused as he followed her directions. Of course, he still couldn't figure out why  _any_  kid would  _want_  to make out in a swamp. And Dean certainly wasn't picky about where he got to neck. "Maybe if it's nice enough, we can lure the monster by reenacting what the kids were doing." He grinned, glancing over and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Chloe's cheeks flushed a little in the backlighting of her laptop, just in time for Dean to see her roll her eyes. "I don't think we need that kind of attraction." She paused, clearing her throat as Dean's smile dropped into more of a pout. "Y'know, for the monster."

Heh. He'd flustered her.  _Take that, Queen, you self-righteous Richie-rich._

"So, what is it with this place?" Dean kept following her directions as she pointed them out. The further they got into the swamp, he heard the squelching sounds of his tires on mud, not gravel. Man, if somethin' happened to his car here, he wasn't sure who he'd kill first: the monster or Sam, for not bein' there.

"Well, I couldn't find anything on why it was named Gold Lagoon. There's not a whole lot on Slaughter Swamp in general, except that it used to be where Gotham executed their most dangerous criminals in the 19th century." Chloe chuckled a little, grinning over at Dean. "Maybe they rank their swamps by criminal. Y'know, Olympic medal for gold for the really screwed up criminals."

Dean huffed in response, amused. "Yeah, well, let's hope not. Pretty sure even Michael Phelps would sink in this stuff." With another turn of the wheel, the Impala rolled down a small hill and came to a stop at the edge of, well, a lagoon. With a swipe on the gearshift, he shifted into park and shut the car off, the lights leaving them in total darkness. "C'mon." He barked in a mix of a whisper and a growl, hearing the resounding creak of the Impala's driver's side door as he opened it and stepped out into the muggy night air.

Popping the trunk, he grabbed for the duffel bag he'd packed for the hunt. Mainly guns, but also some salt and kerosene. Shouldering it, he waited for Chloe to follow after him with a flashlight, glancing through the trunk as well. He silently handed her weaponry of her own, even if he found himself wondering if she'd actually need it. Finally geared up, he shut the trunk and turned to the lagoon, the only light their flashlights.

At least ten miles out from the city, and in a swamp full of dense vegetation and overgrown trees, it felt like a world of its own. He could hear crickets, the occasional frog, and a burble or two as the water stirred from wildlife.

As the two of them reached the edge of the lagoon, flashlights swiping across the terrain, they split, each taking a different direction. No conversation, not even a motion between the two of them, just a natural movement to diverge.

Dean was pretty sure the silence was going to kill him. Normally, he and Sammy worked in total silence and it didn't bother him a bit. This felt different, though. Not because he didn't think he could do that with Chloe, it was that it felt  _wrong_  for things to go so smoothly. This felt like a better sense of syncopation than he had with his brother. It was weird, and it made Dean -

The ground quivered beneath his boots, a dull thud echoing through the swamp. Dean froze in his tracks, his flashlight immediately sweeping out for Chloe. In a flicker, he caught sight of her, and immediately switched off his flashlight. With more relief than he wanted to admit, he smiled just a little as she did the same. Of course, now he needed to get over to her.

Another thud, this one much closer. Then another followed, and another.  _Fuck. Footsteps._

Dean glanced in the direction of the sound, brow furrowing considerably as he watched something... fluoresce from behind his car. A great, hulking, pale gray arm with veins that seemed to be laced with glowing, white fluid came crashing through trees, the rest of the pale blue body following after.

Thing was fuckin' huge.

The hulking behemoth let loose a great, heaving, unearthly snarl as it stopped in front of the Impala, and Dean's heart dropped into his stomach.

"Nonono..." He barely whispered, unable to stop himself. His heart raced at the concern for himself and Chloe, but most importantly, his  _baby_.

He shoulda kept his damn mouth shut.

The creature turned and focused dead, white eyes on Dean Winchester in a way that made him feel like he'd been struck with a blast of ice. What the fuck was that thing?

Dean tried not to move, approaching this scenario like that scene out of Jurassic Park. Just don't move, right? The creature chuffed, eyes never leaving Dean as it took a step closer, its great hand reaching for the bumper of the Impala. Suddenly, it lifted the vehicle up onto its back tires, and Dean visibly tensed, grabbing for his gun with split-second precision.

As he cocked to fire, though, the creature did the  _unthinkable_  - It put Baby into the line of fire. Holding it aloft like one of the damn Sand People in Star Wars, the Impala was a helpless victim, and Dean hesitated, wincing. "Put it down, ugly! Now!" His voice sounded far more convincing than he was feeling at the moment.

Unfortunately, that was the wrong answer. The white-haired beast roared, hurling the Impala towards him.

"Dean, move!" Chloe barely shouted as Dean suddenly had an armful of Blonde. Chloe wrapped her arms around him and yanked him off his feet to the ground, the two hitting the mud just as the Impala did the same, landing right side up, but tires-deep in mud.

Oh god, okay. Mud. It was still fine, just in  _mud!_

"C'mon,  _up_ , Winchester, let's go!" Chloe breathed as she stumbled back to her feet, grabbing his arm and hauling him up as the creature turned to pursue them in earnest.

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but when a tree came tumbling down where he'd  _just_  been laying, his survival instinct took over, and he bolted. Without thinking, he grasped Chloe's hand, to make sure he didn't lose track of her, and the two sprinted further into the swamp, further away from Gold Lagoon and from society.

His heart pounding in time with the tromping of his feet, Dean couldn't rely on the flashlight, he just had to run off of the instinct he had honed over years of hunting with his dad and brother. Fuck, now was  _not_  the time to prove that he could navigate in low light! He wasn't that fuckin' Bat freak back in the city! The thundering steps of the beast behind them were gaining, crashing through the trees as it roared again. It might look like a big hulking guy, but it was a fuckin' monster! He was okay with admitting that!

By sheer luck, he caught sight of a slope ahead of them, and Dean tugged Chloe to him, grabbing her and holding her body to his as he hurled the duffel bag full of weapons and supplies down first. Holding his breath, tensing his body, he dropped to the ground and rolled down the hill, not knowing what they'd run into next.

The two of them hit another patch of mud and skidded to a stop at approximately 11:59 PM, Tuesday night.

The creature loomed at the top of the hill, then growled and turned back the way he came.

As Dean caught his breath, still holding Chloe tightly, he glanced up at the top of the hill, then groaned, dropping his head to the ground. "My car..." He panted. "Sonuva _bitch._ "


	3. Wednesday

**Solomon Grundy**   
**Born on a Monday**   
**Christened on Tuesday**   
**Married on Wednesday**

Convincing Dean to settle down so that they could collect their thoughts had been far from easy. At first, he'd wanted to go barrelling back up the hill to the car, but when Chloe had pointed out that the monster wasn't  _gone,_  as they could still hear the tromping footsteps, it would be better to just settle and wait the night out for now. Chloe Sullivan knew Dean well enough to know that if the duffel bag of supplies and weapons hadn't made it down the hill with them, no amount of trying to talk to him would get him to stop climbing the hill.

Now, it was early morning. Chloe checked her watch, the date having switched over as 3:30 AM arrived. Wednesday. Four days left. She was running out of time.  _ **The Fate of the Sentient Power rests in seven days. It comes. In the filth of Gotham.**_ Fate had described Lois as being the one Clark needed, and had called him the Sentient Power. So it was clearly related to her best friend. It had to be that monster in the swamp that kept her and Dean at the bottom of this muddy patch, their only light a small fire that Dean had gotten going with precarious amounts of kerosene from the duffel bag, some green wood that barely wanted to burn, and his trusty Zippo. It didn't help that it had gotten very cold in the darkness, and even with Chloe's black leather jacket, she felt like a Sullivan-sicle. Could be worse, she reasoned. Could be the Fortress.

If Chloe had been focusing on anything other than her best friend and his superheroic life, the great sacrifices they'd all have to make in the coming days, maybe she would have noticed how she remembered so much about Dean. The little things. The fact that he would sniff to clear his mind as well as his sinuses. That half the time, he lit his Zippo with a swipe against his arm, and the other half of the time, with his thumb in a smoothly practiced move. The charm around his neck. The fact that she'd never seen him without a T-shirt and a button-down over that, hanging open and showing off the fact that underneath the cotton fabric, there were taut muscles. The fact that after a month of travelling alone, save for Diana, she'd found herself missing the weight of his body on the bed next to her, even if that was  _stupid_  because it had only been for just the one time. The fact that her dreams over the last month had been of the smell of leather, the sounds of Led Zeppelin, the laughter of the two brothers, images of an ever-changing landscape as she became Chloe Sullivan, Hunter, and not Chloe Sullivan... no one.

Something heavy was suddenly draped across her shoulders, and Chloe was shaken from her reverie. Glancing up, Chloe caught sight of Dean as he made his way past her and took a seat on a fallen log. The smell of distinct leather and cologne filled her senses, mixed with a hint of kerosene. Dean had put his jacket across her shoulders and was now sitting at the fire, poking it as if he could annoy it to life. Where had  _that_  gesture come from? Chloe had known since she met him that Dean had the heart of a hero, but... that didn't necessarily mean he was a knight in shining leather -  _no, armor. Never leather. God, it's always leather._

"Thanks." Chloe decided to open the conversation on another attempt to be positive, the patented Sullivan method for solving all problems when one didn't have coffee. She couldn't count the number of times she'd started an awkward conversation with a quip and a quirky smile. While she might not necessarily have a quip on hand, she at least had a smile, an attempt to bridge the gap that had she'd helped put between them.

Dean didn't reply, the silence only punctuated by the snap and hiss of very green wood. So... he'd give her his jacket, but not the time of day. Chloe wasn't surprised, to be honest. It looked as though their tentative reunion had gone wrong in almost every way it could.

"Y'know, I'm sure we can get the car back - " Chloe began, casting one of those weak smiles his way. Man, she couldn't even light a light bulb, much less a room with it.

"Oh, I know I will." Dean grumbled calmly as he poked the fire, his eyes locked on it as though mesmerized. He kept poking the flames licking at the cold air around them, but didn't add anymore to the conversation. Unfortunately, even after the month she'd spent with the Winchesters, and a month apart to analyze their behavior, she had not been able to crack the wall that was Dean Winchester. Her analogy upon getting to know him still stood. Heart on the sleeve, but that leather jacket was a pain to take off.

 _Way to go, Sullivan. You realize you're wearing said jacket right now?_  She chastised herself, rolling her eyes a little at her own mental gaffe. This was ridiculous. She was on a schedule. She was running out of time to help Clark, Lois... Oliver... Chloe needed Dean's help to bring her plan to fruition. That monster might be exactly what she needed to get to Flagg.

"I'm sorry." Chloe's voice surprised her, the words having slipped through with a heavy resignation she'd never even intended to let out. She was normally better at guarding her emotions these days. At least, that was what she'd told herself Jimmy's death had done for her. Dean had turned his attention to her, though, so... maybe a little bit of honesty  _was_  the best policy. Even though the last year as Watchtower had taught her the dangers of letting people in, after being as hurt as she was... "For what I said to you. The last time I saw you, that was... not what I'd hoped would happen."

A smirk graced Dean's features, but it didn't take an expert to figure out that it wasn't a pleasant one. It was one of annoyance, maybe frustration. It was a very...  _Dean_  kind of look. "Yeah? So... what  _did_  you expect to happen? You were gonna come in and tell me to be a heartless jackass and I was just gonna take it? Maybe even thank you, give you a goodbye kiss?"

"No, of course not," Chloe sighed in resignation, her brow furrowing as her eyes searched his face for a sign that she could get through to him. "Look, what I said, it was... below the belt. You needed to hear about it, because there  _is_  something coming, this Darkness -"

"You could try telling me about it - "

"But I've lost enough people in my life, I don't want to lose you." Chloe paused, her eyes drifting downward and darting as she examined what she'd just said. "And Sam." She finished, wanting to clarify that this wasn't some sort of misguided romantic intent. This was genuine concern. "You and your brother are my friends. And I would protect you just like I'd protect the Blur or - "

"Or Oliver?" Dean's voice took on a different edge. It reminded her of the evening they'd spent in her hotel room, drinking, talking about the Countess, about the secrets she kept. She hadn't quite figured out what that edge was, but his eyes were softer, even if his jaw was still set.

Chloe licked her lips, taking a deep breath. The news of Oliver's identity was very public now. It didn't surprise her that he'd mention him. "Or Oliver. He's - "

"That someone special to you, right?" Dean railroaded over what she wanted to say next, the brief validation all he needed to apparently get something off his chest. "That guy that you said you left to protect. The name you were breathing while you slept." Wow, this sounded a lot like conversations she'd had with Jimmy about Davis Bloome. Chloe bristled, squirming in her seat. "I'm not a  _brick_ , Blondie, so don't treat me like one. You gotta go off to have some million-dollar booty call, that's  _fine_  -"

"Woah, that is  _not_  why I left, I haven't seen Oliver in months - "

"But don't blame it on some bullcrap hunch and then  _berate_ me like I'm some stupid five-year-old kid because I'm understandably pissed off that we had  _five weeks_  to track those kids down and I didn't save a damn one of them! I seem to be  _really_  good at lettin' people die around me lately, okay? So sorry if I didn't appreciate it." Dean stopped, huffing in frustration. He turned and pelted the stick in his hand up the hill, as if hoping that he could David and Goliath the monster above.

Chloe blinked, confusion coloring her features as she tilted her head, feeling slightly indignant. The anger was one thing, but... wow, if some of those facts weren't in the right place. "Okay... I..." She paused, resting her hands on her knees, his jacket tucked even closer. "First of all, I didn't  _blame_  anything on a  _hunch._  I told you, I had to leave Oliver and the Blur and all of them to protect them. I'm not done protecting them. There... the Suicide Squad, you remember them?" She waited for Dean's reluctant nod, then continued. "They're running loose with no direction. I have to stop them before they really hurt someone, so I left so I could try to find them. If I had stayed with you and Sam, if we hadn't gone our separate ways..." Chloe's eyes darkened in the firelight. "My cousin would've died." The two of them exchanged looks, Dean trying to mask the fact that he was quite clearly listening to her. "I don't regret telling you that there are worse things coming, but I _do_  regret that you seem to have blamed yourself for their deaths." Chloe pursed her lips, tilting her head again as realization flickered over her features. "But it's not their deaths you blame yourself for. Is it, Dean?"

Dean's gaze shot to the ground, anywhere but Chloe's. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sam told me."

There was another tense pause as Chloe let the weight of her admission sink in. She hadn't wanted to say anything about it, it wasn't necessarily her place to tell him, but, Sam wasn't here and clearly he hadn't.

Dean's jaw had set, and probably from the utterly sympathetic look Chloe was giving him, he'd figured it out. "That little  _bitch_. I'm gonna kill him." Dean growled, shoving his sleeves up to his elbows angrily, as if solely for the purpose of pointing at the ground as he looked at Chloe. "Screw him! He told you?"

"Dean, your dad's death is  _not_  your fault - " Chloe knew the moment she tried to calm him down, she shouldn't have.

"You don't know anything about what is or is not my fault, Chloe!" Dean snapped back at her, which only made her own hackles rise in defense. "You don't  _know_  my life, okay? You spent a _month_  with us. You weren't there all the years that it was just me, my dad, and Sammy. You don't know what it means to lose someone -"

"Are you kidding me?" She softly interrupted, a little laugh escaping her lips.

"I get that you made 'sacrifices,' because that's all you've said since you decided to start hangin' around me and my brother, but guess what, Blondie? You're just not that fuckin' important, okay? You don't know me or my life, and you  _don't_  know Sammy. So I don't need your lectures or your fake apology. We cool? Good."

Well, then.

The look on Dean's face was... hurt. He was hurt. Chloe could feel her own chest tightening as she struggled with the lambasting she'd just received. She was pretty sure she deserved most of it. These last few months had made her so locked down that she wasn't honest with anyone these days. Even with Diana, she'd had to keep some secrets. The only one who truly knew what was in her heart was, well... the Helmet of Fate. And it certainly hadn't been forthcoming.

To be fair. This is what she got when she didn't come clean with people. The silence hung like the fog around them as the Witching hour left them.

Chloe blinked moisture from her eyes, reaching up to brush a few idle strands of blonde from her forehead. She wanted to just shut down from there, throw the towel in and say goodbye to this man that she knew so much and yet so little about. In the two short months she'd known them, Chloe had felt a pull that was... unique to anything else she'd ever experienced. It didn't feel like her crush on Clark, which looking back on it, seemed more like a natural obligation of their circumstances. It wasn't like Jimmy, which was sweet and innocent and... boring. It wasn't Davis, which was all sorts of wrong and, looking back, completely bizarre for her. She honestly wondered to this day how much of that had been Brainiac at first... And it didn't feel like Oliver, which was fun and no-strings-until-there-were-strings.

Dean just made Chloe feel... like she didn't know who she was anymore. He made her wonder what she was missing.

"Dean, you're not the only one to lose someone." Chloe began, swallowing thickly. "My, um... mother left when I was really young. I took care of myself for the most part and it wasn't until I was older that I found out," Chloe sniffed a little, clearing her throat and looking up at him. "My mother was also meteor-infected. And that infection left her in a catatonic state. So she was sitting in a sanitarium." Chloe slowly pulled Dean's jacket off of her shoulders, folding it casually as she kept speaking. "My mother could control other meteor freaks. And I am meteor-infected, so... she decided to control me. To help get to her. And by the time I got to her, it was too late. She... lapsed. Permanently." Chloe cleared her throat, wiping tears from her cheeks. "And  _my_  dad? He gave his life to protect me. See, the funny thing about knowing superpowered people, Dean," A sad little smile flickered onto her lips as she just... let it go. She hadn't talked to anyone about how she felt in... months. About her parents? God, years. Dean wanted honesty, so fine, he'd get it. In spades. They were in the middle of a swamp. Who could hear them? "The funny thing about knowing superpowered people is that sometimes? It's dangerous. And sometimes, you stage your own death so that you and your dad can survive. And then sometimes, your dad dies from complications from that staged death. And you never see him again." Chloe glanced up at Dean, clearing her throat. "I think I know a bit about losing people."

The fire was starting to go out without someone to stoke it.

Dean cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to the ground as he clearly considered what she'd said. Chloe wondered what the hell he was thinking? Was he guilty? Again? Maybe he was preparing to go on another tear about how disingenuous he thought she was, because Chloe had definitely gotten that impression.

"I, uh..." He chuckled, furrowing his brow, almost like he couldn't believe himself. "I didn't mean what I said. Then. Or now. About... you bein' heartless, about you not being important and, uh... most of the other stuff. You just..." He shook his head, looking up at her. "Legs, believe me, I got enough guilt to go around."

"So don't add to it." Chloe entreated softly. "Please, Dean. Just be happy the Countess was stopped. If you hadn't come in Ghostbusting, the whole world would be an amber alert. I didn't mean to suggest that you shouldn't feel regret, but... not guilt. Please, don't guilt yourself."

Dean rolled his eyes, grabbing for another stick so he could stoke the fire back up again. "Why do you care about the guilt I got on my back?"

Chloe sighed and rose, holding his jacket in her hands. She made her way over to him and took a seat beside him on his log. She rested the leather on her legs again, picking a stray thread that needed to be trimmed near the collar. "The last time I let someone swallow themselves in guilt, they fell into a bottle so hard that I literally had to try to kill him to get him to crawl back out." Chloe reached into Dean's jacket and pulled free the small flask she'd felt there as she'd clutched the material in hand. She held it up to the weak firelight, turning it in her fingers, hearing the slosh of liquid. She turned to look at Dean. She knew the look on her face at the moment. It was a look she'd given Oliver so many times before in his darkest days, when he'd just needed a hand up. "Sam mentioned that you guys had a very odd experience at some church, and he said he was worried about you."

Dean chuckled, leaning closer to her. Even if the two of them were still crusted with dried mud that they hadn't knocked off yet, he still smelled like leather and his cologne. And the way he leaned closer suddenly had Chloe's heart racing, her mouth suddenly going dry. His fingers wrapped around the flask smoothly, brushing against her skin and reminding her very suddenly that she had spent the last two months sleeping alone, and even more months before she'd met the Winchesters. "Sammy worries. It's all he does." He took the flask from her and tucked it into the breast pocket of his open button-down. He hadn't pulled away from her, though. It was becoming very difficult to think with him so close, those eyes flickering while he smirked at her. "That still doesn't answer why you're worried about me. I mean, I know I'm freakin' adorable, but still..."

Chloe used the opportunity to sit back some, to give herself a little bit of space and, she told herself, objectivity. "Contrary to popular belief, Dean, not everyone is out to get you." She smiled, the kind of smile that said she had his number, even if he wanted to deny it. "You are a friend of mine and I'd like to keep you safe. So I will worry about your safety and you're just going to have to like it."

Dean rested his elbows on his legs, his hands clasped and hanging idly between his knees as he glanced back over at Chloe with a smirk and a small wiggle of his eyebrows. "What about your boyfriend? You don't think richie-rich Mister Queen would have a problem with you carin' what happens to some slummy Hunter?" Chloe caught that Dean hadn't mentioned Sam. The conversation seemed to be skirting around to something she didn't think she could really address.

"I told you, Dean, I had to give him up. I've lost him." Chloe frowned, dropping her gaze to her own hands, then glancing up at the fire in front of them.

"You keep sayin' that, but, I mean, unless he's dead, gay, or married, I'm not following."

She kept her eyes on the fire as she tried to figure out the best way to address Oliver. Just a complicated subject. "Oliver... he has a path. He has a place in this world, and the world needs Green Arrow, just like they need the Blur. But..." Chloe closed her eyes, images of Fate's warnings, harbingers of the day she would leave them, swimming through her mind. Now that she knew Dean, that image had become even more depressing. "My place isn't with him. I just..." She couldn't tell him about Fate. If this guy couldn't buy angels, then he certainly wouldn't buy Pagan god-like creatures encased in a Helmet. "I know it's not."

"Well, no one says you have to be the Pepper Potts to his Tony Stark. You could just be the Mary Jane to his Spider-man." Dean rattled off easily, as if that made all the sense in the world to him.

Chloe opened her eyes and shot him a confused look. "You know comic books?"

Dean shrugged, looking affronted. "What? Why wouldn't I know comic books?"

Sitting up, the smile returned to her face as she crossed her arms over her chest and appraised him skeptically. "Dean, the only time I've ever seen you with a glossy-paged periodical, I'm fairly certain I saw the words Busty and Asian - "

"I dunno what you're talking about." Dean quickly mumbled before he couldn't fight a little hint of laughter.

The night might have gotten colder around them, but the air had certainly cleared. Finally, the tension that had been between the two of them had dissipated, leaving Chloe with more questions, but less of a concern that those questions would end in an argument.

"So..." Dean cleared his throat, clearly in a better mood now that he'd gotten everything off of his chest. Chloe hadn't realized that apparently the secret to a Dean Winchester grudge was to  _not_ let it fester. "My point still stands. He clearly means somethin' to you."

"He does." Chloe grinned as she brushed hair from her eyes, looking to the hill above, where they could hear another low growl from the creature. Whatever that pale mass was, it was the key to ensuring the survival of everyone she cared about. Too bad they didn't know what it was. "I, uh, I actually met Oliver while he was dating Lois. I figured out he was Green Arrow and sort of... inserted myself into his group of superfriends."

She heard Dean chuckle and groan beside her. "Yeah, that sounds familiar."

"I mean, he was always a friend, but, I... I never thought it would go past that." Chloe found herself thinking of whiskey and the thunk of arrows on a target in Watchtower's low lighting. The kiss that followed... "It was supposed to just be no strings and... there wound up being strings. Then, he got taken by the Suicide Squad. And... in part of my plan to save  _everyone_ , I traded myself for Oliver. And I left him. I mean, I left him a Dear John and everything." Chloe reached up, running her fingers along her lips, as if she could somehow take back the words. "He hasn't given up on me, though. I told him not to fall for me. I'm not the person the hero falls in love with." She glanced over at Dean, smiling softly. "I'm the person who believes in the heroes. And then eventually, the heroes leave."

Dean frowned, unconvinced. "Why are you determined that y'know, your, uh... fate lies elsewhere?"

It was so odd for Dean to use that word that Chloe's confusion flickered across her features before she could mask it. Dean wasn't a 'believing in Fate' sort of guy. "Call it that bullcrap hunch you mentioned earlier. I..." Chloe shook her head and took a deep breath, trying to clear the cobwebs, to find a way to explain what she knew that wouldn't chase him away... but she couldn't. "Besides, even if it wasn't for my hunch, it's not surprising. There's a  _very_  good chance that what I try to do here, to take down the Suicide Squad? I might not make it out alive. I don't want Oliver to have to know that. At least this way, he knew how I felt. He knows that I love him, but... that I'm okay with the sacrifice I made. He can move on."

"Wow." Dean scoffed, surprise written on his features. "That is... wow, that's cold. I mean, I know I called you an Ice Queen, but, way to live up and surpass those expectations." Shaking his head, Dean stoked the fire with another stick. "I get you think you might die, and I mean, don't get me wrong, I ditch chicks all the time, but... wow."

Chloe turned to face him. "It's not just because I think I might die, I  _know_  -"

" _How_  do you know, Legs? Huh?" Dean turned to face her as well, and suddenly, proximity became a very prominent factor for Chloe again. "What is it, Chlo, what do  _you_  know that nobody else knows that means you don't get to have a life? And not just  _any_  life, you could have a  _cookie-cutter_  life. You could be on that guy's arm draped in diamonds. And look at you. You're covered in mud while we wait for that mook up there to wander off so I can go dig my Baby outta the swamp. This isn't the kind of life you need to have. What me and Sam do? It's no good. For  _anyone_. Especially not someone who's  _got_  a life back home." The intensity, the honest, demanding tone in his voice, it was something that Chloe had only heard one other time: when he'd told Olivia Coleman's mother that they would find her daughter. It was the voice of a hero, a voice that said  _Trust me._

"Dean, I appreciate that, but my path is already set." Chloe found herself wanting to comfort him, and her hand sought out his, taking it gently. "This is a choice I made fully understanding the consequences." Of course, that was a lie. She might know the high points, but the details were unknown even to her. "I'm going to do what Fate has asked of me. The world needs the Blur and Green Arrow and the rest of the heroes in this world more than they need insignificant Chloe Sullivan."

"Okay, okay, okay," Dean didn't pull his hand away, but with his free one, he was already waving that thought aside. "Back up a second. If you're convinced you're gonna lose this guy, I can't change that. But I can tell you one thing." He reached over, poking her in the chest with a finger. " _You_  are not insignificant." He scoffed. "I mean, you act like I'm someone you gotta worry about like Queen. Me? I'm just a stupid Hunter. There are a million o' me-"

Chloe couldn't contain the giggles. "Oh, I am sure there is no one out there  _quite_  like Dean Winchester-"

"Okay, well," Dean shot her a proud grin, wiggling eyebrows before he reached up to itch at his ear. "You're the chick who grew up with the Blur. Who dated Green Arrow. So, uh, you go up a few more pegs than I do." Dean chuckled some, shaking his head as he looked her over. "Man, I can't believe you think you're insignificant. Because, believe me, you are - if  _nothing else_  - a significant pain in my ass."

Chloe rolled her eyes, smiling softly. He didn't get it. He would never get it. He didn't know what it was like to know that your life was ticking away before your eyes, that the sacrifice you had made would ensure the lives of people who needed it more than you did. Chloe hoped he never would. He'd already lost his father, and if he couldn't accept that sacrifice, she shuddered to think that Dean would ever choose to sacrifice himself. She wanted to tell herself he'd live a very long life and eventually fall out of this life. When he was, y'know... 80.

"Y'know, in the long run, this is probably better anyway." Chloe broke the quiet silence between them again. Now that her adrenaline was running out, she could feel drowsiness starting to creep into her senses. The more she talked, the more awake she felt. No coffee for the Chloe-mobile was really taking its toll. "Oliver's life is all glitz and glamor. It was even before he was Green Arrow. And I'm okay with that, but, that's not me. I am a small-town journalist from Smallville, Kansas. I mean, you don't  _get_  smaller than that. The glitz and ritz?" She shrugged. "I dunno, I don't think it's me." Chloe had been to charity balls, the occasional soiree, but even though now she felt more like an international woman of mystery, she still didn't know how she'd feel if years down the road, she was somehow with Oliver and was as, Dean had put it, draped in diamonds. Chloe had barely come to realize she  _loved_  Oliver. She certainly wasn't ready to think of a life with him.

"Yeah, well, what? You wanna be ridin' in the back of the Impala with me and Sammy? I mean, I know  _I'm_  awesome company, but, Sammy? He bitchfaces and whines and -" Dean turned, pointing to Chloe as if it should dissuade her. "He  _smells._ "

Without thinking, Chloe leaned closer to him, her nose crinkling up the slightest as she replied, full of flirtation and just, unbridled Chloe. "Crazy as this sounds,  _yes._  I'd rather be draped across the leather backseat of your car chasing a ghost than draped in diamonds being chased by cameras."

The silence that fell between them was different now. Dean's eyes searched hers for a moment, his lips parted like he wanted to say something.

Dean suddenly stood, clearing his throat and grabbing his jacket from her lap and slipping it on. "Our big palooka has gone quiet. Maybe he's wandered off. I'm gonna go check it out." Dean fished out his shotgun from the duffel bag to their left and began to march up the hill.

"I don't think that's - Dean, hang on - " Chloe sputtered as she got up, following after him. Of course he wanted to go investigate, of  _course._ Again, it was just like having to deal with Clark. No, actually, this felt a little more like Bart. All impulse. Chloe checked for the handgun tucked in the back of her jeans and began to climb up the hill alongside him. "Look, we should wait until daylight. For all we know, it's nocturnal." The mud was near-impossible to walk through, sucking their feet in so badly that she was fairly certain she'd lose a boot. Not exactly how she'd planned on spending this week, but then again, none of this was.

"Yeah, well, let's go up there and test that theory." Dean grumbled back as they scaled the hill. As they came upon the crest of it, though, Dean suddenly stopped, grabbing Chloe and pulling her down as the both of them watched the hulking gray mass plod by.

It let out a low groan as it meandered past them, arms swinging, the Impala nowhere in sight. It could've still been in its same place in the mire, or maybe not. Their visibility was hardly perfect. "Ssooolmon Rrundy..." Chloe furrowed her brow, picking out syllables in the middle of the groan. What...

"Brn... onmMonday..." Its voice was lilting. Chloe glanced over at Dean, exchanging perplexed looks. She mouthed back at him,

"It's singing."

Dean replied with a silent comment of his own. "What the hell is it?" Chloe shrugged, then glanced back at the creature. Why did that sound so familiar? She couldn't make out the words, but something was getting her attention about it, poking at the back of her mind.

"Chrisn... Tuesay.."

Wait. Had she heard the days of the week? Chloe closed her eyes, muttering to herself as she tried to piece together the nursery rhyme that was bouncing around in her head.  _C'mon, Sullivan, with all that minutiae in your mind, you have to have something rattling around. Days of the week, something that sounds like Solmon Rundy... Not Solmon..._

"Solomon Grundy." Chloe whispered, looking over at Dean as she opened her eyes. "The English nursery rhyme, my dad used to sing it when I was really small and I hadn't heard it in yea - " Chloe's voice died on her lips as she realized she was talking to air. Where the hell was Dean - Chloe turned towards the hill just in time to see denim-covered gluteus maximus as he finished coming over the crest. " _Shit_." Chloe hissed, scrambling to catch up with him.

No sooner than she reached the crest, a blare of sound forced her on her knees, hands going to her ears. Wincing, she glanced up as she caught sight of the creature roaring at the top of its lungs while Dean backpedalled towards the hill. The roar faded and as Dean reached her, she suddenly felt his rough hand clutching the collar of her jacket.

"Guess what, still here! Might be nocturnal!" Dean barked as he practically dragged Chloe back up to her feet and towards the bottom of the hill.

Unable and unwilling to argue with him, Chloe made her way down the hill, her heart thumping in her chest. Once they reached the base of it, back to their campfire, she swivelled on her feet, frantically brushing hair out of her eyes. Okay... the creature was heading back towards the Impala again. Huffing, Chloe turned to look at Dean, her expression one that she was pretty sure no one had seen since she'd asked Clark where her clothes were at MacDougal Inn. "Okay. I think we've now established that Solomon Grundy up there is  _nocturnal._  Can we  _please_  wait until daylight to make a move?"

Dean panted, glancing up at the hill, then back at her, reaching up to wipe a smudge of mud off of his cheek. "What? Fine, whatever. I don't care." He rolled his eyes. "I  _want_  my car."

"Yeah?" Chloe sighed, reaching over and smacking his shoulder, freeing a clump of mud. "Well, I want a motel room with a vibrating bed." She made her way over to the fire and rummaged through the duffel bag, pulling a scratchy blanket that was probably for wrapping the guns. At least she could sleep on  _something_.

As she laid down, hands behind her head so she could look at Dean, she caught the utterly unreadable expression on his face.

"Wait... you like the magic fingers?"

This was going to be a long day.


	4. Thursday

**Solomon Grundy**   
**Born on a Monday**   
**Christened on Tuesday**   
**Married on Wednesday**   
**Took Ill on Thursday**

_This could be perfect..._

Hands gently caressed bare skin, sending shivers through her body. In darkness and twilight, shadows moved with the same sensuality as his lips pressed against hers. Trepidation had left, the only hesitation was calculating movement, as if he wanted to be sure that everything he did was in the proper order, that he could commit everything to memory. Every scar, every mark or unique feature, his hazel eyes were drinking in.

_If I could leave this all behind..._

Time was running against both of them. Even as he sank into her, lips searching for the hot pulse of her neck, his teeth scraped against her nerves, panting. His hands grappled for purchase on the bedsheets, his hips moved with purpose and force, making her cry out for him. He held her close, pinned her with his body, watching her expression as pleasure flickered over her features in the dim light of a streetlamp somewhere beyond the windows and its lowered blinds.

_There’s not enough time..._

Her cries began as low moans, expressing how blissful it felt to be filled. They quickly grew to a fever pitch as he thrust into her, her nails clawed against his back harder than she meant as she tried to sear every sensation into her memory.

_I get it now... I know what you meant... when you knew you’d lost him.._

**_Icarus Has Flown Too High._ **

**_Flagg..._ **

The thrusting of his hips quickened, became harsher, less gentle, as the animal he kept at bay began to surface. Control was unraveling even as he held her face in his hand, fingers tightening in blonde strands of her hair, his lips barely touching hers, his eyes watching, drinking everything in.

“Chloe...”

**_In the Filth of Gotham, it comes. The Fate of the Sentient Power Lies in Seven Days._ **

**_You are the one he needs._ **

Higher, and higher. Her legs tightened around his waist, his hips drove further, deeper, and she screamed as her climax crashed right over her, arching her back.

_“Dean!”_

**_He Is Waiting._ ** **_Do Not Forget Your Fate, Chloe Sullivan._**

Chloe’s head slipped from its resting place against a tree, and she woke with a start, looking around warily, eyes darting as her pulse raced in her chest. Darkness still shrouded the swamp, and she blinked slowly, glancing down at her watch. A quick tap of the backlight showed her that it was still the wee, early hours of Thursday morning, and the sound of Dean breathing just a foot away from her confirmed that fact. Letting out a deep breath, Chloe slowly let her head drop back against the tree trunk she was propped up against and tried to clear her mind of the vivid images still making her heart race.

At least Dean was asleep, so she didn’t have to explain the way her cheeks were most assuredly flushed, or the fact that now that she was awake, her hips were rolling slowly to work out the tension and warmth that was plaguing her. Wonderful. After a full day of searching through the swamps during daylight, only to be chased further away from the Impala, Chloe’s bleary mind was instead dreaming about being locked in the embrace of a man who slept only inches from her.

It scared her. Chloe Sullivan, the Watchtower, the Sidekick... she was scared. As much as she denied it in the waking hours, her dreams had reminded her, yet again, that Dean was getting under her skin. There was a physical attraction that she was having a very hard time ignoring. It hadn’t helped that even Diana had noticed that Chloe’s reactions to hearing about Dean were far different than her responses about Oliver...

But that was because she knew she had already lost Oliver. Right?

“You always knew this could happen, Chloe.”

Chloe’s eyes went wide at the eerily familiar voice, and she turned, drinking in the pale apparition before her. No, not an apparition. She was opaque, but draped in a pale blue nightgown, her dark brown hair spilling over her shoulders... there was no way Moira Sullivan was standing before her.

“Mom?” She muttered, then remembered that Dean was beside her. A cursory look revealed he was still asleep. In fact, he hadn’t even stirred... “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” She asked, even though her eyes never left Dean’s peaceful expression. Had to be the most innocent she’d ever seen him. Or at the least, relaxed.

“Does it matter? I’m here because you want me here. Because of your Fate.” A cold edge to that word set Chloe’s warning bells off, and she turned to look at the visage of her mother again.

“Why, Nabu? Why my mother? Why are you doing this at all?” This had to be the most vivid and coherent dream she’d ever had, but Chloe, curiously, wasn’t frightened.

“Because this is what you see when you think of the day you will sacrifice yourself.” Her mother - no, it had to be Fate - moved closer to her, kneeling down in front of her and reaching a hand out to touch her cheek. Chloe didn’t flinch; she didn’t give anything away.

“I’m not my mother.” Chloe whispered with conviction, even though she knew that the fear had struck too close to home. Too many dreams over the years had been filled with Chloe, locked in a dark room, the hallways filled with the screams of the mentally disturbed as she simply... wasted away. Since she’d taken the leap into Fate’s waiting arms, those dreams came at least once a week. Too many times she’d woken, expecting not to be able to move, her body a cage for her mind.

“But you are the culmination of the choices you have made, Chloe.” Her mother’s voice sounded so soothing, making her chest tighten and twist in recognition and nostalgia, but she knew it wasn’t her. She had to be dreaming. “And the price you have paid for the safety of your friends is grave. But you did so willingly. That is not unlike the choice I made to protect you.”

“You’re  _not_  my  _mother._  And there are more important people in this world than the sidekick.” Chloe’s voice was etched with confidence, but cold fear of the future had settled into her stomach. “But, y’know, I could use some cheat codes here. I know my time is limited, but if you don’t tell me anything in advance, I can’t plan, I can’t - “

“It comes. In the Filth of Gotham.” Her mother repeated the words she’d heard in Fate’s deep tones, filling her mind before. Chloe blinked, feeling the warmth of Fate swelling her vision, her mother’s visage fading as golden hues took over everything. The dream faded, the voice grew in intensity and richness. _“ **He is Waiting. In the Filth of Gotham, He is Risen.”**_ Chloe’s hands absently went to her face, covering her eyes as her mouth opened, the golden light flooding her again.  ** _“He Barters with the Demons Three. Seek Him Out.”_**

Chloe slumped against the tree, curling closer as the intensity of the overwhelming sensation sent her reeling, the words beginning to lose cohesion. She managed to gasp, “Seek out... who?” The world quaked beneath her.

**_He Barters with the Demons Three. He is Risen. Find the Man Who Calls By the Name of Blood._ **

**_The Omega. The Darkness Comes For Them._ **

**_Find the Remnant of the Power in the Filth._ **

 

_Ava._

_Where was Ava? This was the right location. Why was it so cold? Too cold. A ghost, maybe?_

_The warehouse was empty. Why would she been in a warehouse? Think, Sam, think. What’re you missing?_

_“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, I’ve missed you.” The voice. A man, but not familiar._

_Who is that?_

_“Wow. I actually think you’ve gotten **more**  attractive. How’s the wonderful new world of puberty treating you?”_

_That couldn’t be..._

_Meg?_

_Darkness. And pain. Can’t move..._

_Dean -_

 

Chloe gasped as she shot up from where she lay on the ground, the felt blanket underneath her tangled, her foot stuck in the thick Gotham mud. Light was streaming through the branches of the trees above, the little haven they’d found about half a mile from the Impala. The sun was fairly high; she must have slept well into the morning.

“Rise and shine, Legs.” Dean. Chloe turned to face him, wherever he was, and caught sight of him packing his duffel bag that had the last of their supplies, which mainly consisted of weapons at this point. She was pretty sure they’d gone through the last of the beef jerky the evening before.

Blinking stupidly, knowing that she must have looked completely disoriented, Chloe reached up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she climbed to her feet. “You let me sleep so late?”

“You didn’t sleep so well last night, so I figured I’d scout around in the meantime. Took a walk.” Dean smiled up at her as he slung the bag over his shoulder, then turned to the embers of their fire, starting to kick clods of mud onto them. They wouldn’t be returning, it seemed. At least, not if Dean had a say.

“I didn’t?” Chloe pulled the felt blanket from the ground and folded it loosely after shaking it out.

“No, I heard you talking.” Chloe rose an eyebrow at his response. “You kept mentioning your mom?”

Chloe swallowed. So... definitely a dream, right? “Yeah... uh... nightmares. Thanks, but, no need to keep the kid gloves on. I’ve had worse nights.”

Dean chuckled and dropped his gaze back down to the remnants of the campfire, finishing his job. “Whatever you say, Pixie dust.”

He was in a surprisingly good mood. For some reason, that worried Chloe. A quick glance at her watch told her it was almost 10 AM, and the muggy feeling she had suggested it was going to be on the warmer end of 60 degrees today. As the days lingered, the two of them completely lost, wandering Slaughter Swamp, the fact that winter was beginning to approach had become quite evident. The chill in the air had a bite, and the skies were cloudy.

“So, scouting around, huh?” Chloe asked as she turned to look back at Dean as she picked up her leather jacket where it hung from a branch on a tree behind her. As her gaze raked across the rough bark of the tree, she felt a chill as she thought back to leaning against that tree, talking to her mother -  _Don’t go there, Sullivan. It wasn’t your mom, and it wasn’t real._

“Yeah, not that I found much of anythin’.” Dean grunted as he shifted the duffel bag to his other shoulder, his sawed off idly clutched in his free hand before the two of them began to meander westward.  Gold lagoon and the Impala were that general direction, even if they knew that what Chloe had now dubbed Solomon Grundy was still roaming the woods. Unfortunately, it wasn't nocturnal. It just didn't sleep. “ Couldn't even bag the singing zombie-gram before breakfast.”

Chloe slipped her jacket on. “You think he - “

“Zombies don’t get gender. Not in my book.” Dean held a finger up, then kept his eyes ahead as they scaled a hill that must have been three parts mud, one part swamp.

“Okay,” She rolled her eyes. “ _It_  is a zombie?” As the two of them kept up the pace, eyes scanning the terrain, her jacket warmed to her body temperature but a cold weight had settled in her stomach. Thoughts of her mother had faded away, replaced by something else. Other images. What had she been dreaming about? There was a warehouse... it was cold.

“That’s what it looks like. Big ass Sasquatch singin’ nursery rhymes, but it looks like a zombie.” Dean grumbled, holding his hands out to motion the beast’s girth. “Like Andre the Giant got zapped by Miracle-Gro. In  _neon._ ”

Chloe had to fight the smile that flickered across her features as her eyebrows rose in response, but she shook her head and tried to suppress the urge to laugh. She never expected to find someone who seemed to be equally as talented as her with alliteration, only somehow cornier. It didn't bother her. In fact, it had a tendency to relax her, make her feel more at home than even a day at the Kent farm did. It was perplexing.

“Anyway,” Dean paused at the top of the hill, glancing around, surveying the treeline of the murky swamp. “Figure we’ll make our way back to the Impala, see if we can fire off a few headshots, y’know, double-tap, that kinda thing, and call it a day.”

Chloe scoffed, chuckling softly. “That easy, huh?” She crossed her arms across her chest, tucking her hands under her biceps for warmth. “I mean, heck, we’ve only been attempting to do that for the last two days. I’m sure it’ll be a piece of cake this time.”

“Does Queen put up with this backseat driving?” Dean groused, but his tone was lighter than she figured it would be. In the last four days of incredibly close quarters, having hashed out the tension over the ill-chosen words and Dean’s ill-conceived reaction to them, the banter had become less laden with antagonism. Instead, Dean’s words were definitely more along the lines of flirtation, something Chloe was trying desperately to ignore.  _Especially_  this morning. “Or does he find your gams and golden tresses too distracting to argue with?”

“Actually, it’s my mind and my sound reasoning that Oliver doesn’t argue with.” Chloe fired back, keeping her tone even. Last thing she needed was to give Dean the wrong impression, even if she knew the way her cheeks were warming told her that she  _desperately_  wanted to make that transgression. “That’s part of being on a team, Dean. You learn to play to everyone’s strengths.”

“I thought you said you were their Brainiac, not necessarily, y’know, QBing.” Dean wasn’t looking at her, he had started down a path through another line of trees, then stopped.

“That’s the thing, Dean. Just because I’m not on the field doesn’t mean I’m not playing.”

Dean turned towards her, scoffing. “Being on the sidelines isn’t the same as being in the game.”

**_Mera’s the one who taught me that being on the sidelines isn’t the same as being in the game._ **

**_You asked me a question. I guess you’ll get your answer. I am man. And I am steel._ **

**_The team needs to know the bigger war we’re fighting._ **

Chloe blinked as she suddenly found herself inhaling sharply, not really sure what had just happened. No, she knew what had happened, but... that was different. It didn’t normally happen just walking around. Fate had given her another glimpse. Had that been AC? Clark... and Lois...

“Chloe?” Dean’s voice was closer, but Chloe couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from the blank spot of mud she was locked on. “Hellooo...” Dean’s hand waved in front of her face, forcing her to blink and break out of her shocked state. “Blondie, you okay?”

Her eyes focused finally on Dean’s face. He must have walked closer while she’d been locked into... whatever those images were. Fate had given her another vision, during the day. Why did this feel like escalation? Probably because it was. The concern behind those eyes of his caught Chloe off-guard. Was he worried about her?  _Oh, that is dangerous territory. You don’t want to do that, Dean._

A smile broke across her features, and she cleared her throat, nodding. “I’m fine. Sorry. I just remembered something I dreamt about last night.” The more she spoke, the lie grew easier to maintain. “I think there were clowns.” She shrugged, trying to keep the tone light, wanting to say as far from her actual nightmare as possible. “Maybe midgets.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose. There was silence for a few seconds, and Chloe honestly wondered if he was going to see through the ruse. Instead, he just barked a laugh and turned away, shrugging. He began to head down that path he’d picked out for them. “Wow, who has nightmares about clowns and midgets? I mean, that sounds like the kinda crap Sammy dreams about.” He rolled his eyes, but Chloe got the notion that he was protesting a bit  _too_  much. “No, really, he  _hates_ clowns. It’s hilarious. We actually had to investigate a circus a few months back, I thought he was gonna wet himself, come to think of it, I think he might’ve...” Dean’s voice was fading as the distance between them grew.

  
_“You’re scared of clowns?” Chloe couldn’t mask the giggle in her voice as she stepped into the hotel room and put her phone on speaker. She took a seat at the desk chair in the corner by the window, putting her phone down beside her laptop on the table._

_“Ha,” Sam chuffed, an embarrassed chuckle on the other end. “Can we... **not**  talk about my irrational fears? That’s why they’re irrational.”_

_“You got it, Georgie. I’ll be sure to keep Pennywise away.” Chloe snickered as she turned the power button on, glancing at the time on the phone’s display. Diana would be back any moment now. Another tug of a smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. She found herself incredibly curious what the taller Winchester would think of a woman who was almost as tall as him. “You’re the one who brought it up.”_

_“Only because you were asking me about onryo.” Sam countered as the sound of a roaring engine passed him._

_Chloe paused as she checked her email, looking for a specific contact she was using from this particular ISP, which was bouncing between Switzerland and Malaysia. “Is that the Impala?”_

_“What? No, no,” God, Sam may have had a poker face, but it didn’t translate to his voice at all. “It’s just... anyway, why did you want to know about onryo anyway?”_

_“It’s nothing important, just... there’s something going on where I am right now.” Chloe tried not to think back to the last few days, the terrifying dreams she and Diana had both been plagued with. She just wished she knew what it had to do with the investigation of Edgar Cizko, the very unusual psychologist that one of Flagg’s team had been far too interested in. The Amazon of Paradise Island had been slated to speak with him, masquerading as, well... herself. Chloe wondered how it was going. “Bad dreams, that kind of thing. Onryo were the first thing I found, but it does seem awfully far-fetched.”_

_“Yeah, I dunno if that’s it. Plus, I don’t know enough about Eastern mythology. I’d have to call Bobby.”_

_“No worries, we’ll figure it out.” Chloe answered, but she was distracted as she read through the email on her screen. She heard the door open, but was still reading. “Hey, so, looks like the new documentation for you and Dean will be here tomorrow. Where do you need me to send it to?”_

_“We need to leave at once, Sister.” Diana’s husky voice brooked no argument, was distressed, and it made Chloe frown._

_“What?” Chloe tried to keep surprise and concern out of her voice._

_“What?” Sam echoed over the phone. “Chloe, who is that - “_

_“I am Diana of Themyscira, the Paradise Island of the Nation of the Amazons.” Diana spoke to the table, arms propped on her hips, a beautiful yet absurd display of power. “Who are **you**?” The raven-haired Amazon glanced up at Chloe. “I did not realize this encampment possessed enchanted tables.”_

_“Uhhh...”_

_Chloe smiled, grabbing for her phone and clearing her throat. “Sorry, Sam, we have to go. I have a feeling this is about our psycho Doctor. Text me an address, I’ll mail you everything so you guys can register the Impala with new plates.”_

_“Thanks, Chlo.”_

 

“C’mon, Blondie.”

Chloe blinked her memory away and quickly followed after him, trying to shake the words Fate had burned behind her eyes. Chloe just wanted to get through the next three days, focus on the fact that she needed Grundy. Now that they were on day four of this trek, she’d had time to think through what she needed - well, hoped to do. But Fate’s words kept echoing. She only had the seven days. Come Sunday at midnight, she had to make sure her business in Gotham was finished. That was what she needed to be focusing on, not her dreams.

“What did you say Sam was working on?” Chloe’s mouth honestly had just betrayed her. Hadn’t she  _just_  thought about not talking about her dreams? Unfortunately, that itching curiosity that she’d normally used to her advantage as a reporter was now creeping through with concern. She didn’t like the jumbled images that were left of her dreams.

“Another case. Cold one, he’s probably already back at the motel with nothin’ to do. It is Thursday, right? Yeah.” Dean shifted the duffel bag from one shoulder to the other.

“What kind of case?” Chloe pressed, noting the way his gaze slid towards her. She didn’t think it was mistrust in those eyes anymore. “I just, I get the impression something might be wrong with him -”

“Other than the usual?” He quipped, chuckling softly. Chloe had the distinct impression the response was a little  _too_  convenient. “Did he try to schedule a chick flick night or something?”

“No, Dean, I’m serious.” Chloe took hold of his arm, stopping them and making him look at her again. “Is there anything about Sam that you think might be... off? About the case he was working on?” The images from her dream hadn’t helped her determine what was truly wrong, and they were quickly fading. There was just that name...

Dean frowned, his attention fully on her. “About the case? Wait, you think this has somethin’ to do with Yellow Eyes?”

“What? The demon who killed your mom?” In all her conversations with Sam over the last month, they’d spoken about John Winchester’s death, the fact that a demon took their mother from them, the fact that John had said  _something_  that upset Dean and Sam, but he hadn’t really extrapolated. What did Dean seem to know? Of course, he had one hell of a poker face, so she couldn’t tell if he  _did_  know something, or if his question was genuine. “What makes you say that?”

“I dunno, you just said that there was something off about Sammy. And, uh, I dunno, that’s why he’s workin’ this case. He’s lookin’ for someone. I’m hoping he finds her.”

Recollection flickered across Chloe’s features. Wait. Did he know what Sam was doing there? Did he know that there was danger there? “So you know already?”

Dean paused in their trek, giving her a long, surveying look. Chloe’s suspicions were confirmed. He  _must_  have known something was wrong with Sam. Whatever that nagging feeling was in her gut, that warehouse, all of it – “ _Course_  I know already. I’m his brother, Chlo, you think I don’t know my own brother? We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

An odd mixture of relief and trepidation washed over her, and she let out the breath she’d been holding, her gaze sweeping the terrain so she didn’t have to look at him. “I didn’t say that, but this seems bad. I mean, look, I think there’s something really wrong with him.”

Dean huffed, reaching up to swipe his hand across his face. “You know what? There might be. But I’m not gonna sit here and wring my hands, wonderin’ if he’s gonna be okay. If I did that, I’d be fuckin’ useless. But, he said he’d be back today, so I’m sure he is. When we get back? I’ll handle it.” Dean breezed away from her, and she could have sworn she heard him mutter something like  _“Never shoulda told you”_  under his breath.

She opened her mouth, ready to pursue the topic further, even if Dean also suspected something bad had happened on Sam’s case. 

“So what  _else_  do you guys talk about, huh?” Dean barked, casting a glance back her way. “You sing camp songs, do each other’s nails and talk about guys?”

“If by guys you mean  _you_  and your friend Bobby, sure we do.” Chloe shot back without thinking as she followed him.

“What?” He scoffed.

“Contrary to popular belief, Dean, you are a part of Sam’s life, and Sam is my friend, too. That means that we would talk about the two of you.” Chloe could tell by the way Dean’s shoulders bunched that it wasn’t the answer he wanted. “Nothing too bad - “

“Except the part where you found out that my dad died cause he made a deal for my life, right?” Dean turned, stepping backwards. “Cause I’d say that’s bad.”

“Sam  _told_  me that because he was worried about you, Dean. We talked about this - “

Dean waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Next time you wanna know somethin’ personal about me, how ‘bout you call me first?”

She rolled her eyes. “I did. Several times. You were too busy hating me.”

Dean paused, turning to face her. The look on his face had changed. “Never said I hated you. Hate’s a strong word. I reserve that for, y’know, Yellow Eyes.” He scowled. “Or  _Hanson._ ” 

Chloe smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Okay, well, that being said, you still didn’t like me very...” Chloe’s attention was grabbed by something else entirely. Her gaze, in sweeping the path, caught sight of something on the ground, and suddenly, the conversation was momentarily shelved. Besides, at this point, it was easy banter. If they wanted to keep doing it, they had to get out of the swamp.

“Hey.” Chloe simply called to get Dean’s attention. As he faced her, she made cautious steps closer to what had caught her eye. A dark spot in the mud gave her pause. Chloe crept towards it, recognizing the familiar shape and what looked like a large bolt of soiled fabric hanging from a tree branch. The dark spots on the ground were long dents with five smaller ones at the top. Footprints. Wresting the cloth from the twigs and prickly bark, Chloe held it out at arm’s length. It was a pair of pants. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t our Solomon Grundy steal these from some hapless teens?” She cast him a glance over her shoulder, only to suppress a bolt of surprise, as he was right behind her.

“We just found our pants thief’s... pants.” Dean grimaced. “Oh, man, this just gets better and better.” Suddenly, he tugged the pants from her grip and tossed them aside. He pulled his sawed off and pumped it in a smooth motion. “C’mon, I’m more interested in where those footprints are goin’.”

Well, at least they were both on the same page. She wanted to know just as badly as he did about where Solomon Grundy had been trekking through the swamp.

Five minutes of more walking and de facto tracking led the two of them through another line of trees and further westward. At least it was on the way to Gold Lagoon; the chances of reaching the Impala and digging it out of the mud were vastly increasing. Dean had gone silent, though. It occurred to Chloe as the sounds of feet crackling against leaves and twigs, or sloshing in mud, became what she was attuned to, that Dean was  _hunting._  They’d been wandering for days now, but this was the first time they’d had a solid lead that had a good chance of leading them to the creature. At some point in the last five minutes, his entire body language had shifted. He was stalking, his gun trained as they crept through the foliage.

There was something profoundly fascinating about watching Dean and his brother. When they had been running cons together, they’d been comfortable with their lines. Clearly, the two had several con archetypes they ran, and each knew how to work with the other. But, this was different. This felt more like when Dean had pulled her free from the Countess. Whereas Clark was a powerhouse, a behemoth who swept in and swept out, and Oliver was fast-moving, agile, and precision-based, like a hawk. Dean? Dean was neither of those things. Right now, he was like a barn cat. He was single-minded, focused on evidence of the pestilence he was tracking, but if you happened to throw something at him he wasn’t expecting, he might jump six feet and turn into a caricature of a Halloween tableau. A blend of experience and skill that masked natural clumsiness. It was refreshing, even if this  _wasn’t_  the time to be thinking about it.

Chloe’s thoughts shifted as they stepped out of a press of trees, and familiar terrain greeted them.

“This is the other side of Gold Lagoon.” She tried to mask genuine surprise in her voice as the two of them took in the sights around them. Murky brown water with a golden sheen rippled ahead of them. The footsteps clearly led past them down to the muddy bank before they disappeared entirely into the water.

“No wonder those punks lost their pants, looks like we just found this guy’s home base.” Dean had moved away from her and was pointing to a pile by a tree. “I don’t think I wanna know what this is, though...”

Chloe went over to meet him, also giving the pile a quick once over. “That’s... a good question...” Dean used the tip of his shotgun to pick at a muddy, caked mess that looked like it belonged in that safe in  _Titanic_ that Bill Paxton found. “I think that is fabric?” She didn’t bother to hide her uncertainty. “If it is, though, it’s decayed beyond use.”

“So, where the hell’d it come from?” He stopped poking at it and turned to look at the water before them.

“I don’t know, but, I’m willing to bet that’s a clue as to why Grundy’s come back here.” Chloe pointed to the golden sheen, almost like oil slick, that glittered across the surface of the water. “Call me crazy, but I don’t know of anything that does  _that_  on water. Except...” Chloe paused, her brow furrowing. There was  _one_  substance that she knew had a tendency to mix into water supplies. She just hoped she was wrong...

“Look. The footsteps go into the water, then come back out over there.” Dean pointed out the footsteps as he surveyed the area. “And its body is huge. Almost like it’s...” He shrugged. “Bloated? Like bodies get in water?”

Chloe glanced back at the pile of decaying fabric, her brow furrowing. “That fabric’s definitely decayed. And still wet. If I had Watchtower, I could check on the rate of decay, even examine the substance on the water.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Starting to get an idea why they call this Gold Lagoon. I bet Bruce knows more about this area, he’s grown up in Gotham, he probably knows the urban legends better than I do.”

The elder Winchester turned to look at her. “Bruce?”

“A friend, not important.” Chloe gave Dean a long look before she paced the length of the lagoon again. “I wonder if you’re right, if Grundy’s a zombie.” She pointed at the footprints again. “From the lagoon, maybe?”

“Raisin’ a body from water like that takes a little more than just average run o’ the mill hoo doo.” Dean grumbled. “I don’t even know if something can - “

The ground shook beneath them, a gentle quiver followed by another. The two of them, hunter and his sidekick – which, oddly enough, didn’t bother her at this moment – exchanged glances as the quiver turned into a solid quake, rhythmic pounding into the ground.

Her heart pounded in her chest, climbing to her throat as the footsteps grew in intensity and speed, faster than either of them could really predict.

“Chloe, move!” Dean barked just as Chloe whipped around, hearing the crashing of trees as the white-laced, pale hulking terror that was Solomon Grundy came careening into view. In a flash of action, a brutal roar erupted from the gaping maw that was quickly approaching, and Chloe’s hand went to her gun, tucked in the back of her pants. She’d managed to pull, training the weapon, and went to fire. Her finger squeezed. The trigger locked, frozen.

_The safety’s still on._

Pain radiated through Chloe’s chest as the world went spiralling out of control and wind rushed around her. Her sense of equilibrium abandoned her just as it occurred to her that she was in mid-air. Weightless and without tension, Chloe spun aimlessly in the air before another bolt of sharp pain radiated through her solar plexus. Her hands scrambled stupidly for purchase as her head swam, her vision clouded and tunnelled. She felt rough bark as she slipped towards the ground, grappling to hold onto the thick branch she’d been slammed up against. Chloe knew how to ignore pain, so she did just that. She clawed at the surface until she could get her balance, hearing the sound of gunshots and unintelligible shouts from Dean below. Wait, below?

A muffled, breathless groan escaped her lips as she tried to hold on, but she certainly wasn’t a gymnast, and even if she had been, she was pretty sure bars would have been her weak suit. The sounds of thundering steps had faded, but she wasn’t sure if that was from blood rushing through her ears or if it had actually gone.

“ _Chloe!_ ” Dean shouted, the sound finally penetrating the dull thud and sharp aches of pain. “Chloe, answer me!”

She opened her mouth, trying to find the words to speak, but her arms shook under fatigue. A sharp stabbing pain in her side made her wince, and she dropped like a stone from the branch with a gasp.

Strong arms somehow wrapped around her just as she was afraid she’d hit the ground, breaking her fall. Instead of hitting the solid ground, sure she’d feel her shoulder shatter beneath; leather and hard flesh had saved her from more injury. Held bridal style, Chloe had gone limp as she tried to recover; her dizzy vision focusing on Dean’s overtly concerned face.

“The hell was all that about?” He shouted as he swept her around and walked her away from the tree line. If someone could see them from where the Impala was on the other side of the lagoon, they might think they were locked in an embrace out of a musical. “You left the  _safety_  on! You even know how to use that thing?”

Chloe was suddenly righted and set on her feet, rougher than she would have preferred, as her ribs protested loudly enough that she winced and staggered. “I didn’t...  _mean_  to leave it on.” She breathed as her hand went to her side, holding tightly. She had broken ribs before, and this wasn’t  _that_  bad. Definitely bruised, though.  Even in her pained state, she could hear the sounds of approaching thunder again. Grundy was coming back for another pass.

“You didn’t  _mean_  to leave it? Four days we’ve been in this damn swamp and you chose  _now_  to forget how to use the damn thing?” Dean was railing at her as Grundy came crashing back out of the woods again. Without missing a beat, his jaw set and he turned, letting off a solid round from his sawed off, squarely into Grundy’s chest. The beast groaned, clearly pained, and retreated with a stumble backwards into the forest. “You wouldn’t know how to use that thing if it smacked you in the face!” Dean shouted, turning to look back at Chloe again.

“Can we argue about this later?” Chloe hissed, still too punch drunk to argue at the moment. “He’s going to come back.” Her gaze rested on the water again, and she huffed, limping slightly as she walked over to the lagoon. Her ankle was sore now, but if they were going to get chased away, there was something she needed first.

“Oh, we’re gonna go. We’re gonna go, and we’re not leavin’ here til you know how to  _shoot_.”

Chloe ignored Dean’s tirade, gingerly crouching down and reaching into her pocket. She pulled an empty bottle she’d had hand sanitizer in and unscrewed the cap. Carefully, she skimmed the golden sheen off of the water and quickly screwed the cap back on, putting it back in her pocket.

“What the  _hell_  are you doing?” Dean’s hand clamped down over her bicep, and he lifted her back to her feet. “You have got  _so_  much explainin’ to do, Lucy. Now, c’mon!”

Unwilling to argue, and frankly, unable to think of a sufficient argument while her head throbbed and her side ached, Chloe let Dean tug her away from the lagoon. As she glanced over her shoulder while they disappeared back into the trees, the golden sheen on the water remained with her.

_That’s gold Kryptonite..._

_So what’s it doing here?_


	5. Monday

Chapter Five: Friday

**Solomon Grundy**   
**Born on a Monday**   
**Christened on Tuesday**   
**Married on Wednesday**   
**Took Ill on Thursday**   
**Grew Worse on Friday**

"Unbelievable. Seriously, I don't actually believe it."

"You're not helping. Not everyone can just shoot a monster without looking, okay, Eastwood?"

Dean sighed heavily and walked over to the tree trunk they'd spent the better part of the morning massacring. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled his knife and used it to point to the three new bullet holes that were high above his head. Not good. Hell, it mighta been worse than before.

Since yesterday afternoon, Dean had pulled Chloe away to a new place to camp and tended to her ribs, which were now eggplant-colored. Unfortunately, there was nothing else he could do for her that night but hand her some Advil and his flask. A small part of him had thought back to how easily she'd downed straight liquor before in his presence and how enjoyable it could be to really loosen up with a bottle between them while her shirt was pulled up, but, it wasn't  _that_  kinda night. His mood had been pretty damned sour because he'd been too busy pickin' up after her own stupidity. Hence why she was shooting at a tree trunk.  _Again_.

Last night, he'd drilled her on basic gun safety and care. Dean didn't like it when people padded out their resumes, and nothin' about Blondie's current track record with him made him feel like she'd been on the up and up with him. Even though he'd  _precisely_  told her that she had to be honest with him. She'd protested, sure. She'd tried to give some sob story about how her uncle was a general and she'd had some gun training over the years, enough to know how to care for a weapon and to shoot, but she was comin' off like it was amateur night at the comedy club!

One saving grace to the evening had been that she clearly did understand what a gun was, how to use it, and how to clean it. So, she hadn't been  _totally_  lyin' like a rug. Of course, that was only after the two of them had spent the better part of an hour breaking down, then rebuilding various guns until Dean was satisfied she wasn't a total loss. It was kinda Terminatrix of her, the way she'd locked down and just done it without complaint, but the moment practical application of using the weapon came into play, Dean was back to worryin' that this was like dealing with Jo all over again. Only worse.

He couldn't have an amateur, he couldn't have a liar, and he couldn't have a liability that was just gonna fuck up when he needed her not to panic. Dean's tentative truce with the Leggy - no,  _mouthy_  Blonde, was about to come to an end if she couldn't get her act together.

Dean turned to look back at said blonde, who still held the handgun between her fingers, stance strong, but she looked jarred. Couldn't have been from the kickback, she seemed used to that part.

"What?" He barked, brow furrowed, not really in the mood for more stalling.

Chloe sighed, dropping the weapon and tucking it into the back of her pants. "I know how to shoot, Dean. I'm  _tired_." She'd peeled off her leather jacket a while ago, and stripped off her maroon long-sleeved shirt, tying it around her waist, leaving her only in her black tank top and distraction, not what he needed.

"We've been in the swamp for four days, who isn't?" Great, more excuses. Was this all she was good for? Excuses and lies? He really hated it when he trusted the crazy ones -

"No, I mean I'm tired of all of this. My arms are fatigued, my eyes hurt, and most of all, I'm tired of shooting at a tree trunk. We both know I can shoot just fine when the target isn't moving. I'm rusty, I didn't exactly have time to log hours at the range while I was running from the Suicide Squad." Okay, so she did look pretty ragged. They'd been doin' this for the better part of the day, and they'd stayed up late, plus she was injured. Of course, while there was a part of him that wanted to go easy on her cause she was a chick, a much larger part of him, the part that had been a Hunter for way too long, knew that wasn't gonna fly.

"So? Zombie doesn't care if you're tired." Of course, Dean also knew zombies didn't go down from a headshot with a Beretta. At least, not with regular bullets. They'd need silver bullets, and even then, it wasn't a given. That damn mess with the Greek-raised zombie was a serious problem. He only had a couple of those silver bullets in the bag, and he didn't want to waste them if she couldn't shoot.

" _Clearly_." Oh great, now the Blondie was sounding testy. Fine. She could be testy. It wasn't like he was  _tryin' to save her ass or anythin'._

"Guess what, zombie doesn't care if you're 'rusty' either, Miss National Woman of Mystery." Dean stalked over to the duffel bag, going through it as he searched for more ammunition. Not that he really wanted to keep wasting it, and it wasn't like the palooka was gonna stay away too much longer if it kept hearing the gunshots...

"What, you think that because I spent all this time surviving without you and Sam I suddenly need a crash course in gun safety?"

"Nope." Dean stood again as he held his sawed off in hand. "Gun  _safety_  isn't the issue, because you were plenty safe. You were so safe, you forgot to take the safety off and almost got your back broken."

"Because I  _froze_ , Dean!" Chloe sighed, exasperation permeating her voice. "It happens to everyone. I bet it's happened to you."

Dean chuffed, turning to look at her. She was giving him one of those looks. One of those looks that immediately set off the  _Don't-Ever-Let-Her-Look-At-You-Like-That_ alarm. She was tired, frustrated, and he was pretty sure he saw somethin' else, too. What, did she want a medal for being slightly vulnerable? It gave him pause, but he tried to work through it. "Nope. Doesn't." He quickly groused as he walked over towards her, holding out his sawed off. Oh, if that girl knew the strings those looks of her were pulling that he was willin' to give her  _his_ sawed off to practice with...

"It doesn't." Chloe repeated, skepticism all over her face. She rolled her eyes a bit. "Of course not. Next you'll tell me you're The Shadow."

Dean couldn't stop himself. He reached over, putting his hands on Chloe's shoulders and steering her back towards the tree, leaning close. The flirt was off and running before he could stop it. "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? Dean Winchester knows." He took the barrel of the sawed off in hand and quickly guided the blonde in his arms into an appropriate position to practice with the sawed off. "Know why I don't freeze? Cause I know how to hunt shit. All sorts of shit. So, if one method doesn't work, I got about sixteen more to try before I say I'm outta ideas. So, if you're gonna help me with this zombie, then you need to know how to fight it. And means learnin' to fight everything."

Chloe glanced over her shoulder, not quite meeting his gaze, but clearly attempting to get a good look at him. He didn't drop his hands from where they were against her biceps, not that he knew why he was still standing  _right there._  "So... what? Is this lecture coming with full disclosure?" Chloe's hands tensed on the sawed off she held in her hands, and Dean could feel that tension radiate up to her shoulders. No good. She'd feel the kickback from his shotgun into her bones if she did that.

Dean's mouth froze in an "o" as he debated what he hadn't mean to suggest. He shrugged a little, tilting his head in agreement. "If that's what you want." Dean couldn't believe he was saying it, but the fact was, posturing had gotten his gears turning in a different way. Maybe he was goin' about this wrong. If brains were Chloe's strong suit, he may as well give her an arsenal she could understand. "Sammy and I, we were just scratching the surface with that whole Countess thing. We had a million theories, but we almost missed the big one. It's a big job, _lots_  of information." He blinked, letting his own words sink in. He might've been mad at her, but, they'd spend the better part of a week trying to move past that. At least,  _he_  had. And even if he thought she'd been lying or maybe she was padding the resume... He was too harsh. Dean scowled. Acting like his father... "It's the kind o' thing that makes me wish me and Sammy had someone like Watchtower, watchin' our backs and keepin' all this knowledge somewhere other than in here - " He tapped his temple. "Or..."

"Or your dad's journal." Dean was silent, he pulled away without even thinking about why. He didn't want to think about his dad. Which was fine. Focus on the plan. He had to get outta the swamp and take the longest damn shower of his  _life._  "Dean..." Chloe turned to look at him, and he took another step back, trying to keep his distance. Mad at Blondie or not, focused on teachin' her or not, he knew that his downstairs brain really liked her, so, distance was a good thing. "I'd like to learn. If you and Sam teach me what you know, it won't just benefit me. It would benefit my team if they run into something like that, and I can be a resource for you and Sam just like I already have been."

It looked like they were on the same page, even if Dean hadn't really planned to go there in the first place. "Fair enough. Then let's start with the basics on zombies."

Chloe was actually proving to be a little less of a total waste of time as Dean began to explain what they knew about zombies thus far. She sucked up information like a friggin' sponge. He knew that, sure, but seeing it in action, it made him feel like she really was hanging onto everything he said. Dean was starting to get the appeal that Sam had to tellin' Chloe everything he could about the Countess while they'd been tracking her. That Blonde was doing wonders for his ego.

Her eyes were focused, and she seemed to find a second wind while they worked as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, casting them in dusk. Okay, so she  _did_  know how to shoot, apparently, but she did better when she wasn't focused on the actual shots. Dean wasn't sure what gave it away first. Maybe it was that while she trained her sights, he noticed she did better if he was closer to her, reciting the training he knew from a lifetime of experience and a whole lotta asskickin'.

As the hour dragged on, the conversation eventually turned from zombies back to Revenants like the Countess. Gradually, as Chloe asked quiet questions while they worked on her stance, the way she positioned and aimed the shotgun, Dean lost track of the hours all together. First it was Revenants, then she was asking about demons, she mentioned witches - "I hate witches. They're skeevy,"- and of course, he gave her the full rundown on ghosts. He actually relaxed, felt all that tension and frustration of feeling like he had a damn target on his back fade away. He told himself it was because making sure she knew everything she could saved his butt, but it was sorta hard to ignore the way she would brush back against him, or glance back at him over her shoulder while he talked.

Oh, man.  _Winchester, you are in trouble._  That voice in his head that was telling him not to listen to his downstairs brain was quickly growing quieter.

After some time, he grabbed the sawed off, taking it out of her hands and setting it on the ground a foot from them. "Okay, back to the Beretta." Chloe shot him a glower, and he cast her another grin. "C'mon, prove me wrong."

Chloe sighed, grabbing the Beretta back out from the back of her pants in a move that actually made Dean really wish they were  _not_ practicing. His anger at her lack of skill had totally faded, he genuinely felt like maybe they were getting past some of the issues they'd had before. They'd already hashed out the shit that had  _really_  bothered him, but it looked like part of the charm of this Leggy Blonde meant he'd have to butt heads with her on the occasion. Maybe if he was lucky, that would end well.

_Dean, sonuvabitch, could you focus?_ He told himself as Chloe set herself up to aim. This time, her shots were smooth, not forced, and Dean's eyebrows shot up as she nailed half a clip into that tree, each shot almost dead on the other. "Nice." He smirked, having totally forgotten that he was supposed to be all rough and tough for the moment. He wasn't trying to let down his guard, it just... sorta happened.

Okay, enough of that bitchy, pansy shit. Dean pulled his own piece from his waistband and flipped it in hand, handing it to her grip-first. "Here. Try two at once."

Chloe cautiously took the gun, then gave him an odd look. "Seriously?"

He shrugged, curious. At this point, it might've been selfish indulgence. Girls with guns were  _hot_. "Humor me."

Shrugging back and rolling her eyes, Chloe set a stance for herself, then rose both hands. Taking a deep breath, she let loose several bullets from either gun, clearly aiming for the tree. Her weaker hand kept going wild, though, and finally, Dean reached out, grabbing her wrist and moving it back to her starting position. "You gotta really work on that kickback."

"Right, because I don't normally?" Chloe fired back, but he simply kept a firm grip on her wrist, motioning for her to look back at the tree.

"It's just that you're not used to it. C'mon, I'll help." He kept his one hand on her arm, helping relieve some of that kickback. "Besides, you never know when you're gonna need to take out some crazy demon task force." Dean grinned, stuffing the other hand in his pocket as he watched Chloe try again.

It was, in fact, the kickback that was the problem. Dean spent the next hour working with her on that, as well as just working to improve her aim with her weaker arm. It was honestly remarkable how quickly she was picking stuff up. It kinda freaked him out. He knew she talked about bein' the Watchtower for her team of capes, but... he never thought  _she_  was a meta. Woulda made sense, though, given how fast she picked shit up.

For two seconds, Dean had a bad feeling that there was a reason Chloe was so secretive, and he wouldn't like it.

Thankfully, they'd turned their mutual attention back to the sawed off. As he gave it back to her, he found himself correcting her again. Maybe that was what bothered him?

"Nope, don't do that, you're gonna bruise your ribs worse if you hold it like that." Dean chuckled as Chloe tried to shift her aim to a more comfortable position - at least she thought so. His hands slid down her arms to adjust her positioning, bringing her closer. His feet were planted on either side of her. With a deep breath, he kept shifting her positioning, and he laughed a little as she gave a muffled noise of protest. "You wanna learn how to shoot this or not?"

Chloe huffed, taking a step back. "Of course I do."

And then her backside brushed against his hips and Dean completely forgot what he was supposed to be doing. In just that one second, every thought about just teaching this Sidekick how to not-get-dead had flown out of his head and he was reminded very loudly by his downstairs brain that this was Chloe Sullivan. The woman with legs a mile long, curves to match, and she was the perfect size to pick up and toss onto a bed. And she had the kind of sharp wit that made his head spin when she wanted to, and all he ever wanted to do was kiss her to shut that smart, sassy mouth of hers. He shifted against her, his hands sliding up her arms a bit more than he intended, as his mind wandered.

"Dean?" Chloe was still pressed up against him, and she'd turned a little in his arms to glance up at him. "Everything all right?"

Oh, sonuvabitch. If he didn't know any better, he woulda thought she did that on purpose.

Dean cleared his throat, blinking himself right out of that trip into Fantasyland so he could focus on the task at hand. Get Blondie trained up, fill that noggin of hers with more knowledge than, oh, hell, Bobby for all he cared. She was a helluva lot more fun to talk to, and, y'know, his type. "Yup." He chuffed, setting his grip back on her arms to adjust her aim, then forcing himself to pull back. "I'm good."

Wow. Confusing porn with reality again, apparently. What did he think was gonna happen in the mucky woods where both of them hadn't showered or bathed in four days, and his Baby was still sitting ass-deep in muck?

The blast of his sawed off officially cut Dean's train of thought off from all the reasons he found himself thinking about Chloe way too fuckin' often, and he turned his attention to the tree she'd fired at. Good, solid spread.

Chloe propped the weapon on her hip, turning to look at him. The quirk of her eyebrow and the grin on her face was infectious. He smiled reluctantly, licking his lips and shaking his head.

"Okay, okay, you can shoot."

"Are we done now, drill sergeant? Can we move on to the part where you tell me about how we stop the zombie?"

Dean walked over, surveying her a long moment, unabashedly looking her over like a sergeant would. Finally, he reached over and took the sawed off from her, taking it away so he could set the safety back on and stow it. "Okay, enough field work. Fine, you can shoot a gun again."

Chloe laughed a little, grinning and giving him a quick mock salute. "Yessir."

Dean smirked, then looked away so he could finish packing up his bag and zipping it up. "Besides, we're on day four now, I already feel like I can eat a whole pie shop." Of course, it had gotten late enough that he should've been making a fire, but he hadn't quite gotten the energy up just yet.

He heard Chloe sigh as she closed the distance between him, moving to sit down on a tree stump beside Dean. "Agreed. Between a slice of pumpkin pie and a half-caf, caramel, java-chip white-chocolate mocha with three shots, I'd be in heaven. Well, that and the longest shower in the history of showers."

Dean's eyebrows shot up, and he smirked, unable to stop himself as he glanced back her way. "Half-caf? Goin' full throttle now?"

"Yeah, well," Chloe reached up, scrubbing her face with her hand, probably to stay awake. "I still have a job to do when we  _do_  get out of here. There's a lot of work to be done, especially now that the VRA has passed."

Dean's curiosity piqued, he turned to face her fully before moving to take a seat on the ground beside her. It put him lower than her, but maybe that was a good thing. It'd be harder to avoid him if she couldn't help but look his way. "Oh, yeah, like what?"

Chloe shot him a look, and Dean had to fight the urge to push her. They'd been doing so well before now, with the talking about her actual history with guns, he'd opened up about hunting technique, he'd gone over ghost expulsion, how to track legends back to their source, but he still didn't know her.

"Hey, so, you said while we were working on my aim earlier, something about a Devil's Trap? What is that?" Okay, Chloe was definitely changing the subject. Talk about her friends was always a mixed bag o' nuts, and if he wanted to know more, he was gonna probably have to play by her rules. Which, y'know, was how the cookie crumbled.

"Uh..." Dean cleared his throat, looking around before scrounging up a small branch, twirling it in his hands. "Devil's Trap is a symbol you can use to trap demons. Moment a demon walks either over or under one, Boom. They're your bitch."

Chloe rose an amused eyebrow at him, and he shot her a roguish grin. To be fair, he had liked that about Chloe. She put up with him when he was barkin' orders at her - not that anyone  _shouldn't_  put up with him, as he was a joy to be around - and then she was still willin' to ask him about Hunting. And she was definitely serious about wanting to learn everything, and Dean had already made the decision hours earlier. "Your bitch?"

"Okay, well," Dean shrugged, giving her a slightly more honest look. "I mean, you can't control 'em or anythin', but they're trapped. I mean, we've had to use them before. Any time you think there might be a demon nearby, you'll - "

"So, how do you make one?" Dean paused, giving her another look, the patented I-Was-Getting-To-That-Part Dean Winchester look.

"Well," Dean gruffly began, twirling that stick in his hand again. "It's a symbol. You draw it. You can use anythin'. We use spray paint normally, but I mean, I suppose you could use just about anything." As he spoke, he began to scratch out the pentagram and circle. "Gotta make sure you have all the glyphs, too." He kept scratching, trying to ignore the fact that she had shifted and moved to sit closer to him, leaning forward so she could see the drawing in the mud. "Uh, you can't really just hang out with the sketch, so you're probably gonna want to commit it to memory soon as possible." He finished scratching the trap, then grabbed another branch and held it out to her.

"What, right now?" It was a useless question, especially considering the one of her voice.

"No," He sarcastically deadpanned. "I figured we'd do it after we get back from the spa.  _Yes,_  right now."

Another twenty minutes passed as Chloe and Dean went over the details of the Devil's Trap. Like usual, the sponge that was Blondie's mind just took it right in, and before he knew it, she had it down pat. Soon, they'd moved on, and Dean kept talking. Honestly, he was starting to think he might be gettin' sick of his own voice.  _Yeah, right. Maybe if Blondie wasn't eatin' this up like pie._

"So, I will admit my understanding of zombies is pretty limited," Chloe said as they finally brushed away the last set of symbols he'd just taught her. "In fact, I can safely say my last experience with 'zombies' were of the scientific variety, due to Kandorian experimentation. I don't know what exactly we need to do with our behemoth of a friend."

Dean pulled himself to his feet, then reached his hand out to help her up. Not that she needed it, but hey, he was a gentleman, right? Not like they had anything better to do but talk in this swamp. "Well, this ain't science, this is definitely magic. Very old, very different magic. I mean, last time we ran into an honest to god zombie, it was Greek magic. And Sammy almost offed himself Day of the Dead Style." Okay, slight exaggeration, but Dean was never gonna turn down an opportunity to talk himself up. And that zombie mess had been weird.

"You just can't help yourself." Chloe chuckled, her eyes twinkling as he recounted his tale. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you thought you had something to prove."

"What? Course not." Dean scoffed.

"Uh-huh. Right. I am fairly certain we have proof positive that you'd prone to competitiveness."

"Hey, you wanna know about zombies or not?" Dean shot back, to which Chloe held her hands up in surrender.

"Sorry, sorry. I am simply pointing it out. Please, continue." She waved her hand with a little flourish, and Dean found himself fighting the urge to grab that hand and tug her close so he could shut her up for good.  _Wow._ _ **Completely**_ _not normal. Knock it off, downstairs brain._ He honestly didn't know what it was about this week that was makin' it almost impossible to ignore her attraction. It would keep popping up at the worst times, too. He needed to keep his head in the game. He'd just spent the better part of the day bein' pissed at her for being evasive and not knowin' how to use her damn gun, yet now he was thinking about how she was biting her lip while she waited for him to finish, and that was incredibly attractive.  _Focus, Dean._

"Zombies. They take lots of old magic to raise. We didn't see any symbols or anything at the lake, though, so if that's where this guy comes from, it's not using Greek magic." He scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to work through that copious amount of zombie lore that Sam had been shoving down his throat a couple months ago. "To be honest, there's so much about zombies, it's kind of a grab bag of weird."

"What, the double-tap thing doesn't work?"

"It  _might_ , but we don't know for sure. I mean, hell, the Tri-Delt zombie girl? Silver bullets to the head just slowed her down. We had to sneak her back to her coffin then stake her."

Chloe echoed what Dean was thinking with a wry retort. "Well, I forgot my scuba gear, so I don't think that's gonna be an option here."

"No kidding." He chuckled as he made his way over to a tree, leaning against it. Space was probably a good thing. More space meant he could actually keep his eye on the prize. "But, the silver bullets would slow it down."

"Could anything else kill it?"

Dean's brain was rolling around all the different Hunter lore in his head, and he replied to her off-handedly. "Probably the Colt, Colt can kill anythin', but we don't have it."

"That's the gun Samuel Colt made, right? The one that..." Dean felt his pulse quicken slightly as she began to speak. 'Course she knew about the Colt. Right, cause Sammy couldn't keep his fuckin' mouth shut about Dad. Man, he was gonna have a long-ass talk with Sam when they got back. Okay, not  _long_ , but it would be brutal and it would end with Sammy keepin' his mouth shut whenever he got 'worried' about Dean. He wasn't a fuckin' pansy, he didn't need his brother talking to Chloe or Bobby or anyone-the-fuck-else about his problems. He was  _fine_. Even if Chloe had definitely understood the scenario, and the other night, they'd talked about her own problems with risk-taking. He knew she was just... bein' a chick. Wantin' to know what made him tick so she could "Fix him". Problem was, he wasn't broken.

"Yeah." Dean cut Chloe off, and broke himself out of his reverie. "Pretty sure he gave the damn thing to Yellow Eyes as part of his deal to save me." He ran a hand through his hair. "We could really use that thing right about now."

"Okay, so, we can't kill it." Chloe didn't seem all that plussed by that, but then again, maybe it was just that they were both still exhausted, and as Dean's stomach chose to remind him, hungry as hell. "But, the bullets could slow it down. Think we could capture it?"

"You..." Dean's face froze as he processed what she said. "D'you just say you wanna capture it? What, like it's a fuckin' Pokemon?"

Chloe arched a brow at him in a way that sent a shiver straight down his spine to his groin. Wow. Goddammit, that girl and her looks. "Well, your solution is kill or capture. Bullets don't work - "

"Bullets  _might_  work, I don't know til I try - "

"But, it's not a given. Barring that the silver bullets don't work, do you think we can confine him? I know we don't have salt or anything - "

"Salt wouldn't really work anyway." Dean waved the thought off. "Besides, I'm not capturing that thing. Neon Zombie Hulk is goin' down. One way or the other. Even if I gotta cut it's friggin' head off."

"What, so there's no other solution other than putting it down?" Oh, wow, righteous indignation, he could feel it from here.

"Hey." Dean pushed off of the tree, tromping closer to Chloe, as if by virtue of proximity, he'd get her to see his side. "Rule one of bein' a Hunter. It's a monster. You put it down. That's why it's called Hunting." Blondie's expression was less than impressed.

"For all we know, Dean, he's intelligent. What if he doesn't deserve to die?" There it was again, the 'he'. Dean opened his mouth to reiterate that the zombie was an 'it', when he found his mind wandering back to Gordon.  _What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us... And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it._

"Dean." He felt Chloe's hand on his arm before he realized she'd changed her demeanor. Fuck, what was it about this girl that made him just totally lose track of 'business as usual?' Nothin' about Chloe Sullivan was business as usual. "You okay?"

"Uh..." Dean sniffed, nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... look, it doesn't matter if you think a zombie's intelligent, it's a zombie. Thing's supposed to be in the ground. It's my job as a Hunter to put it down before it hurts anyone else." He shrugged. "We're just lucky that the most he's gone after are pants. What happens when he kills someone, huh?"

Chloe rolled her eyes, her sympathetic touch disappearing from his arm. "I'm not saying we let it run around terrorizing people, but if we don't know for certain that something will kill it, I want to look at other options. And... I get it. I've made decisions like that before; I'm just trying to keep our options open."

"Right now, our only real option is to use what we know and try to take him down."

The ground shook beneath them, and Chloe stumbled. Without thinking, Dean grabbed her, steadying her as he barely managed to keep his own balance. He glanced down at her, concern and worry welling up, flickers of fear in both of their gazes. That fuckin' zombie.

"Grundy." Chloe breathed as she stood straighter, apparently satisfied that the ground wouldn't shake again. Dean? Not so much. "Either he got bigger, or, that was a serious shotput throw."

Dean's heart plummeted to his stomach. "Baby."

Chloe whomped him on the arm before grabbing for her jacket near the duffel bag. "It's not the Impala, genius. If I had to guess, I'd say he knocked a tree down or something." She ignored putting on her long-sleeved shirt still around her waist as she shrugged on the leather and zipped it up. Of course, he was useless for a sec, because his brain had gone straight to the place of  _Oh, fuck, my_ _ **car**_ _!_

As Chloe blew past him, duffel bag in hand, it snapped him back into action again. He grabbed the bag from her, fishing through it for his sawed off before following her.

Dean liked being in charge with Sammy: Made sense, he was the older, the senior Hunter. He felt pretty much the same way right now, but Chloe didn't seem to get the memo. That was odd, she'd been just fine following his pretty ass before. Fine, whatever, she could lead the way for a sec, it wouldn't kill 'im.

Wow. He must have  _really_  needed to get laid, because even he couldn't believe he was thinkin' that.

Another thud sounded, closer this time, but it wasn't nearly as strong. It was followed up by a few more in quick succession. Footsteps. The damn thing must've been near the Lagoon again, since he and Chloe had camped way out. He had wanted to be able to practice with firearms and hopefully not attract the sonuvabitch. For  _once_ , apparently his luck  _had_  been that good.

Of course, if his luck was  _really_  good, Sammy would've figured out what was going on by now and would've at least seen the newspaper article about the kids in the Lagoon. Maybe he'd be helpful instead of chasing dead leads. If this mess taught Dean anythin', it was not to let Sammy go off on his own cause he had the worst timing possible.

Dean stopped cold just before he ran into Chloe, who had also frozen in her tracks. "What?" He whispered, coming around to stand beside her.

Chloe motioned ahead, through the line of trees, to a clearing past them. Okay, thinkin' in terms of where his Baby was, they were probably back along that side of the Lagoon. He hoped. God, he hoped. They'd run outta food, and if they actually got lost in this swamp, he actually wasn't sure they could rough it for much longer. Not that Dean would've admitted that to anyone.

Dean's gaze scanned the clearing, and he finally settled on what he presumed Chloe had seen, too. Of course, it was dark as shit out, but that thing was luminiscent. Damn, that creepy, slimy, glowing zombie thing was sitting there just... breaking a tree. That was the best description he could muster. The mass of flesh was slowly pulling a large branch off of a felled tree - probably the one that had made the ground shake - before it lurched over to another tree and whomped it with a fist. That blow had such force that another thud echoed. That solved the question of where that noise had come from. That tree fell quite dramatically, but the creature caught it and set it down beside the first tree. What the hell was that thing doin'?

"Dean?" Chloe muttered beside him, clearly focused on what was going on just like Dean was. "I think we can settle the notion of if it's mildly intelligent or not. I think he's trying to build something..."

Dean knew Chloe was still talking, but he was trying to block it out. He'd realized the moment he saw the thing that he had potential for a good shot. While Chloe kept muttering on observations about the creature, Dean dropped to his knees, grabbed silver bullets and switched out his clip before standing and taking a long, hard look at the distance between them and "Solomon Grundy."

The thought of downing this thing while it was distracted was perfect. It was exactly the angle he'd been hoping to track this thing on. For once, they saw it, but it didn't see them. A head shot oughta do the trick - he hoped. He hadn't seen anything to suggest that it  _wouldn't_ work, and he wasn't as much a skeptic as Sammy was. Sure, it hadn't worked on that zombie chick, but... this guy wasn't the same kinda zombie. By  _far._

He took the safety off, not really thinking about the fact that Chloe had gone silent, and he took aim. He knew what he had to do. He was a Hunter. Honestly, it didn't matter if Chloe was right, and the thing was intelligent, it was a  _zombie._  It was already dead. He took a deep breath, letting out slowly as his finger settled on the trigger, gently squeezing. Perfect shot, right through the temple -

"Dean!" Chloe's voice broke his concentration just as her arm came up and his shot went  _wild_. He didn't, obviously, see where it wound up lodging, but his arm hurt from the misplaced kickback, and his heart raced as he turned towards her, shrugging her off.

"Chloe,  _Goddammit!_ " He railed, utter confusion and frustration radiating from her. "What the  _fuck_  was that about?! I had 'im! I had the damn shot!"

"You can't kill him!" Chloe shot back, just as a howl escaped from Grundy. The two of them froze, turning towards the clearing. Dean grabbed her and shoved her to the ground, the two of them stuck in the mud as they heard the zombie tromp around angrily. "I'm sorry," Chloe breathed, her whispers harsh and frantic as the two of them sat huddled and hiding. "But you can't kill him."

"Why the fuck not?!" He hissed back, his voice pitching up in indignation. "We  _just_  talked about this -"

"I  _need_  him, Dean!" Chloe's voice was raw, desperate, and it actually made him completely hit the brakes. "I need him. For leverage. It's why I dragged you out here in the first place."

He heard his watch beep as it hit midnight.

_Sonuva_ _**bitch.** _

__


	6. Saturday

**Solomon Grundy  
** **Born on a Monday  
** **Christened on Tuesday  
** **Married on Wednesday  
** **Took Ill on Thursday  
** **Grew Worse on Friday  
** **Died on Saturday**

There were not enough record scratches in all of  _creation_  to amount to the number of times Chloe Sullivan's "I'm-lying-but-I'm-totally-telling-the-truth" routine had made Dean's head spin, but he was  _so_ done. Filthy with muck and mud, his baby stuck in this stinkin' bug-ridden swamp, and suddenly she was saying  _yet again_  that there was shit she'd been keeping from him.

"You got two seconds to start talkin', Blondie, or I swear to god, I'm gonna leave you out here!" Dean growled, not even bothering to hide his utter shock and anger at the scenario. Rage didn't even come close to how he was feeling. Betrayed? Suckered? Oh yeah, those all factored in. The only thing that stopped him from full-on bellowing at her was the fact that the damn zombie was still tromping around.

Chloe's hands were still up, her expression still frantic. Honest to God frantic, but he was too mad to really notice. Both of them paused as the sound of the zombie tromping off finally faded. Thank  _God_ , cause if the shot had given away their location, he probably woulda spontaneously combust from being so pissed off.

Silence again. Good.

Dean shoved off of the ground, back to his feet, grabbing Chloe by the bicep and hauling her up as well. " _Talk!_ " He barked. " _Now!_  Cause I am  _done._ Checked out, pegged, finished, had it up to  _here!_ " He motioned with a hand to his forehead. " _Full_ disclosure, you said! That's what you wanted! Guess what? I want that, too, and you're gonna give it to me or I'm gonna take that thing down, and after that, you can kiss me and Sammy goodbye, cause I sure as hell won't listen to you, and I won't let Sam either!"

"Dean,  _stop!_ " Chloe breathlessly pled, yanking her arm free from his grip in a move that was just a bit too clean and forceful. She was apparently done playing damsel in distress. He would've been surprised she didn't flip him onto his back if he wasn't so incensed. "I am  _sorry_  I lied to you! I get it, I'm - look, I'm going to explain, but it's very involved and I should've told you in the first place, but I was afraid if I did you would do  _exactly_  that. You couldn't stand me  _already_ , I couldn't risk that you would just dig your heels in!"

Dean opened his mouth to speak, pointing an angry finger her way, but he caught himself. So far... okay, she was right, he wouldn't have stuck around for two seconds if he'd known it woulda meant five fucking days in a  _swamp_. So, instead he just waved his hand to make her continue before rubbing his eyes in frustration.

"The VRA..." Chloe began, taking a deep breath and exhaling, clearly trying to calm down. She cleared her throat, reaching up to brush her disheveled hair back out of her face as she kept her gaze focused on Dean. It was like he could freakin' feel her eyes lookin' at him even when he looked away. "The VRA passed, you know that. What you  _don't_ know is that..." Chloe swallowed, her voice was shaking. Dean's heart clenched, and for a second, his anger gave way to worry. What the hell? Was she spooked? "That my friends are going to do some  _very_  foolish things because of it. Because they think that's the way to handle the situation."

"So go warn 'em," Dean couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. Mm, the taste of foot.

"Don't you think that if I could have, I  _would_  have? I'm just as much of a risk to them as the VRA is." Dean's eyebrows shot up as he tried to follow her train of thought, but, nope, wasn't happening. He was still too pissed and too frustrated to really think critically. His expression must have given as much away, though, because she continued on. "I'm  _dead_. Legally, Chloe Sullivan is dead - hell, I don't  _exist_  digitally. The only records of me that exist are paper, and one of those is a death certificate. If I try to warn the Blur, Oliver, any of them, I bring trouble right to their doorstep."

"Wait, pause." Dean held his hand up. "This is about  _Checkmate?_  Those crazy-go-nuts assholes you turned yourself over to? I - I thought you said they were gone, defunct now."

"No!" Chloe sighed, then frowned. "Okay,  _yes,_ but it's complicated, actual organization is shut down, yes, but not the Suicide Squad." Oh man, Dean was startin' to get a headache. Fuck this, why was it always the crazy ones?  _People_ , goddammit. "Their leader, Rick Flagg, he's been operating on his own ever since they traded Oliver for me. Flagg is an extremist, though, in the worst way. He actually  _likes_ the vigilantes, and he thinks that they're the new wave of patriotism and justice in the world - "

"So, what's wrong with that?" Oh, man, the confusion just kept rising, and he was pretty sure he was gonna burst at some point here.

" _Dean, I am not finished!"_ Chloe shot back in exasperation. The elder Winchester swallowed, shutting his mouth before he snapped back at her, trying desperately to bite his tongue. "He tried to kill my cousin and her father, simply to make a point, to try stopping the VRA. But, that isn't the way to solve this problem. I need to get Flagg's team to stop attacking people who are doing it for reasons they think are right and go after the people who are  _really_  at the bottom of this." Chloe's voice shook ever so slightly, and Dean felt his anger waver for just a second. "That Darkness is still coming, Dean, and it is  _right_  in the center of the VRA. It's the heart of it. The purpose of the VRA is to demonize the vigilante movement because it works outside the technical bounds of the law. Never mind the fact that, like you and Sam, these people are  _heroes_  who use their unique skills and knowledge base to do what law enforcement can't." Chloe's voice steadied, and Dean found his anger get knocked back down another peg, if only because he was getting completely sucked into this outpouring of rhetoric she was giving him. "Already, in Metropolis, in Star, in New York, they've instituted mandatory registration for anyone operating with a secret ID, and mandatory curfews for civilians. They're telling people it's for their safety, that the vigilantes will operate for the common good, but they're  _lying._ "

Dean saw Chloe move out of the corner of his eye, and he glanced up, arms crossed over his chest petulantly as he watched her strip off her jacket and toss it aside. He opened his mouth, but, it occurred to him he really didn't have anything to say. Not even somethin' pissed off.

"They want to codify, categorize, and collar the vigilante movement. They want to turn it into their own personal militia, and my friends won't bend to that. Which means the VRA will start working to get closer to them, via the civilians around them." Her voice had become that locked down, super-smart Brainiac Blonde Dean had met back in Delight. "It's no secret that Lois Lane is the most ardent and vocal support of the Blur, or Green Arrow for that matter. While Oliver might have released his identity - which was _monumentally_ stupid - I know him." Chloe's gaze flickered to the ground, her lips pursing. "He'd be the first one there to sign up, since Cl- the Blur... Lois wouldn't let him do it. Neither would any of the others."

That caught Dean's attention. The question out of his mouth next lacked any anger and was all curiosity and, well, concern. For Chloe. Blondie still cared about the guy, even if she liked to pretend she didn't. "So... what? You think he's just gonna walk in there and sign his life away?"

"That's exactly what he's going to do. Oliver isn't known for thinking too far ahead." Chloe sighed, that desperation returning and making Dean's heart twist in ways he'd really hoped he could ignore. "Next will be going off the grid. The moment the people they care about get harassed, they'll pick an ID and stick with it. They won't talk to each other, they won't be there when they need each other." Chloe ran her hands through her hair, backing towards the tree behind before sliding down against it awkwardly, a wince of pain escaping through clenched teeth. "And I can't be there for what's coming. I can't see all the reprecussions, but even I know that if the VRA is able to get a hold of any of my friends, I can't get them out alone."

Dean swallowed as silence fell between them again. Okay, so... she'd word vomited a whole helluva lot, but... "Still doesn't explain the zombie."

A heavy sigh escaped her lips, and Dean took a few steps closer, arms still crossed, thumb tapping his bicep. Chloe glanced up at him, licking her lips and taking a quick, fruitless look around the woods. Not that they could see more than the small space they inhabited. "I can find Flagg. He's looking for me, but believe me, his best on a good day? Still not as technologically talented as I am at my worst on a bad day. The moment he looks for me, I have programs in place that will trace me to his location. The only way I can keep my friends out of the hands of the government is to get the single most effective and lethal team the US government had on their black books on my side." Dean opened his mouth again, still not following. "I need Solomon Grundy to do that."  _…. Okay._... "No one Flagg has on his employ would know the first thing about fighting monsters, or zombies. And I..." She sighed. "Can I just tell you that I  _knew_  it had to be Grundy? I can't explain it."

Woah. Red Flag. Throw the yellow hankercheif, ten yard penalty, fuckin'  _foul ball_. He knew how that sounded. He knew  _exactly_  that tone of voice, because that was the  _same damn line_  Sam had given him back when he didn't want to talk about the visions. What the  _fuck_  was Chloe in the middle of? He rolled his eyes, took a deep breath and uncrossed his arms, shifting weight from one leg to the other. If Sammy was there, he would know that Dean was stuck somewhere between ' _Had a ton of shit to say'_ and _"Had a ton of shit he couldn't say_.' "Okay, fine, so what makes you think you needed him? I mean, what're you gonna do with him that you need him alive? Cause I'm a  _Hunter_ , Chloe. I hunt. Which means I put 'em in the ground, that goes with the description."

"And normally, I wouldn't tell you not to do that, Dean. I understand that you walk in a  _completely_ different circle of life than I do, and that what you do  _saves_  people." Chloe made a move to get up, then stopped, wincing and settling back down. For a split-second, Dean wanted to make a move to help her, but she began to speak again. "Flagg will have a fortified base of some kind. I knew I needed something he couldn't predict, something he hadn't encountered. The reports about the monster in Slaughter Swamp were too good to pass up. The moment we got here, and I saw him - "

" _It_ , Chloe, that's an  _it_!" Dean snapped, throwing his hand out towards where they knew the creature had been before.

" _No_ , Dean! He's  _intelligent_ , he can speak, which means there is  _something_  in there! He isn't mindless, and that means Flagg can't predict him. Because he could  _learn_."

Dean's brain - and mouth - for that matter, stuttered as he tried to make sense of that. "Bec- he co -  _Chloe,_  it's a  _zombie_ , I don't care if you can teach him to sing Puttin' on the Ritz, he ain't a good guy!"

"I'm not asking him to be!" Chloe groaned, letting her head fall back against the bark of the tree behind her. "I set him loose in Flagg's base, can you imagine the damage he'd cause, the havoc he would wreak before someone managed to subdue him? If I can do that by guiding him in the right direction, then I'd be into Flagg's systems before he'd even know I was there and gone."

Wow. Using a zombie as a bull in a china shop. That was new. "Bad idea, Legs. I mean it, this has got bad juju written  _all_  over it."

"Dean, I'm not asking for your permission, I am asking for your help." Chloe pursed her lips, but her expression had grown more sincere, genuine... vulnerable. That last one finally pushed aside the last of Dean's anger. Fuck, this chick. She was way too good at making him  _not_  stay mad at her. "You don't have to like it, and if it  _really_  goes sour, I..." He could tell she didn't like what she had to say. "Won't stop you from putting Grundy down. But,  _if_  there is a way to subdue him, I will take care of getting him out of the swamp. I just need to get back to my computer in the Impala."

Dean huffed, his eyes scanning the darkness as he weighed his options. "So... what was your plan? You were just gonna send me out here to box and ship this damn thing for you?" He held his hand up. "Oh,  _wait,_  that's right, you didn't know it could 'learn' until you saw it trying to build a raft or something. Chloe, what if I  _can't_?"

"Dean, I trust you. I came to you because I have faith in you." The way she said that sent a shiver down Dean's spine, one he tried to ignore. "You  _can_  do this."

And... that was it. Dean couldn't come back with anything after that. He felt like he was right back in the motel room in Delight, hearing her tell him, even with whiskey on her breath, that she trusted him to help her.  _Fuck._  Why did  _anyone_  think he was some kinda hero? He was just doin' what his father had raised him to do. He didn't know anything else.

"Not to ask even  _more_  of you, but..." Chloe reached a hand up for purchase, but it didn't make much of a difference. There wasn't anything for her to grab onto. "My ribs aren't making this easy, and if we want to find Grundy, it might be beneficial to do so with both of us standing."

Sighing, he walked over and reached down to take her hand, pulling her swiftly. She came up a little quicker than he expected, and from the sharp intake of breath she gave, he felt his heart clench at the realization that he'd tugged her too hard. "Sorry, didn't mean to..." His voice vanished as he wrapped his arm around her waist and steadied her on her feet. Even in the muck and grime, she was a warm little haven against him in the mucky, dark swamp. Then, she had to go and shiver against him. Dean's downstairs brain  _immediately_  noticed, and he pulled her a little closer. He could practically feel her heart thudding in her chest - okay, maybe that was him? - but it was takin' every stinkin' bit of control he had not to shove her right up against that tree and give her a genuine piece of his mind. Every stupid, fickle, delicious, half-remembered dream he'd had of her decided to run through his head  _right now_. Even if he'd spent the whole month being angry with her, his dreams had kept workin' through all that frustration with her blonde hair and her lips and her legs that just went  _all_  the way up -

She had said something.

Dean glanced down at her. Fuck, were his eyes glazed?

"I said, thanks. I'm okay." Chloe's voice pulled him out of lala-land. Clearing his throat, Dean's hands were off her in a flash like he'd been zapped by a taser.

"Right, good, cool." Oh, for fuck's sake, did he have to sound like he was stumblin' all over himself? Again, it was like somethin' was always a step ahead of him around Chloe, makin' sure he couldn't keep his smooth, cool, and perfectly sexy persona up and running.

"If we're looking for Grundy, I actually think I might have something..." Chloe reached into the pocket of her jacket, but the backhand of getting back on topic took Dean a couple of seconds. "That could help. I hope." A golden glow slipped free from her pocket with ease, enough to make his eyes hurt, not ready for the change in lighting. "I skimmed this off the surface of Grundy's swamp. I don't think it's the same as what's flowing through his veins, but it looks close enough."

Curiosity overrode Dean's sense of personal space or politeness again as he quickly snatched the vial out of Chloe's hands to look at it. "The hell is this stuff?"

"I'm not positive, but the gold film? Pretty sure that's gold Kryptonite." The certainty of her voice, the casual note, made Dean's eyebrow arch up, and he tilted his head to look at her.

"What's Kryptonite?"

Chloe's hand suddenly was back in view, long enough to take the vial from him. "A radioactive element. Another side effect of the meteor shower that gave people powers."

"Right. Like you." Oops.  _Sonuvabitch, Winchester. The fuck did your poker face just go?_ The blatantly shocked and slightly affronted look on Chloe's face told Dean more than he needed to know. "Oh,  _come on_ , Blondie. The Isis Foundation? Smallville? You helpin' meteor freaks and heroes for nine years, and you expect me to think that you were _normal?_  That you didn't come outta Smallville all freak o' the week?"

Chloe's eyes dropped back to the ground as she tucked the vial back into her pocket. "Dean, it's not important - "

"Full. Disclosure." He reiterated, reaching out to grab her wrist, determined not to let her bat her eyelashes at him and get away with it again.

Blondie's blue eyes weren't telling him everything, but they sure as hell were shaking like she wanted to. "I used to have a power, but it's been gone for years. I haven't been hiding it from you, it's just not relevant." Her voice. It was that military calm that he recognized from the speeches and the info dumps he'd gotten from her.  _Fuck_ , she was lockin' down and he could  _feel_  it happening right in front of him.

"Dammit, Chloe, no more secrets - "

"I told you when we met, Dean. There are secrets I have to keep because I have other people to protect. But..." She tried to twist her wrist free, but Dean wasn't about to let her go this time. Not when he  _knew_  he'd hit a nerve. Goddamn this whole fuckin'  _week!_  "This  _isn't_  one of them! Please, we have more important things to do - "

"Like  _what_ , Chloe?" He tugged her closer. "What could  _possibly_  be more important than you bein'  _honest_  for me when the fact is, whatever it is you're not telling me  _scares_ you!" And again, his mouth had run away from him before he'd even realized what he was sayin'. So, both of them were equally surprised that he'd noticed the fear in her eyes, but he managed to keep it firmly clamped down with the resolve he had in  _spades_.

But, looked like today wasn't his lucky day.  _Was it ever?_  "One day, and I hope you  _never_  have to see it, but one day you will have to make sacrifices for those you love. And those sacrifices are ones that frighten you, that show you the Darkness coming and yet you face it with courage, dignity and hell, with you? More confidence and bravado than you know what to do with. But, the fact is, sometimes we make the choices we make to protect the ones we love. And the choice I have made will protect everyone. Not just the Blur, not just Oliver, not just Lois. But you, and Sam, and your friend Bobby, and Diana and everyone else we have ever known. But, that's a terrible,  _terrible_  burden, Dean. Imagine the choice you'd make to save one life." Chloe's voice was desperate, low, striking him deep, shaking him to the core in a way he'd  _never_  felt. Not even when he'd had his dad whispering in his ear that one day, he might have to... 'stop' Sammy. "Now multiply that one life you save by a thousand, by a  _million._  What kind of price do you think you'd have to pay, Dean?" Chloe twisted her wrist free, but she brought her hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at her. The touch was sudden, but it wasn't unwelcome. It just...  _was._  " _That_ is the kind of sacrifice I've made. Now, please. I can't expect you to understand. But, what I  _need_  you to do is trust me. I know that's difficult, maybe even impossible, but if you can do just that  _one thing_ , I promise you that you placed your trust in me for the right reasons." Chloe fell silent, panting softly in the darkness. Her hand had slid from his cheek to his jacket, holding the lapel for dear life.

A roar from the monster in the swamps pulled the two of them away from each other, and Dean felt the temperature drop around him at least ten degrees. This was bad news. Seriously bad news. Even pissed off and bein' lied to, he couldn't keep his head on straight around her. It was like bein' stuck in a Dick Tracy comic!

Chloe turned to face where they could hear the roaring. That seemed to be the direction of the Impala. "He's on the move. We're running out of time. If that Gold K is at all responsible for how he got out of the swamp, then we can use it to track him. Gold K reacts to similar substances." Chloe left him, vial in hand, their conversation effectively shelved.

Dean took off after her after shouldering his duffel, having to do that freakin' annoying whisper-shout thing. "Chloe! Dammit!" Not exactly light on his feet after five days in the damn swamp, it took him longer than he wanted to catch up to her. By the time he did so, he reached for her, prepared to stop her so that she  _had_  to talk to him, when he noticed the same thing she did.

The tree beside them was glowing... seemingly in tandem with the vial in her hand. "I think that validates my theory..." She whispered, glancing back at him. There was a glint in her eyes, a twinkle of the reporter deep down beneath the woman of mystery. "Look..." She held the vial out a little closer to the glowing sheen on the bark. In a manner that sent chills down Dean's spine, reminding him all too well of the blue glow that had led him to Chloe in the darkness of Bathory's lair, gold shimmered to life in a path through the woods.

"Sonuvabitch..." He whispered, thoroughly impressed.

"C'mon..." Chloe's hand grabbed hold of his jacket before he noticed, and he was tugged along with her through the brand new path. With each step, Dean tried to keep his nerves in check. He settled into the comfortably tense mindset of stalking something, handgun at the ready. What he wouldn't have given for the fuckin' Colt, though. He still didn't like Chloe's plan, it had way too many holes in it, and he'd much rather just drop the damn thing rather than let it go somewhere else.

But, no Colt. Which meant no insta-kill. Which meant if he was gonna drop this thing, he needed to figure out how.  _Maybe_  - and that was a big maybe - it was a Romero-style and he'd luck out. But, if it was like the one chick in Illinois, the Greek-raised zombie, well... staking this guy in his coffin would mean dumping him in a lake. That didn't seem like a doable plan.

Fuck, where the hell was Sammy when he needed him? He coulda used Lurch's wooby, bitch-facey voice of reason against Chloe's blue eyes and long legs. He needed someone to talk her outta this crazy plan before it got them both -

Chloe had stopped in front of him, and Dean nearly bowled her over. Not hard to do, she was a tiny thing when she wanted to be. About to protest, the very snark dried up right out of his mouth as a silver glow blossomed from the top of the hill they had almost risen from. Wait, hill?

Dean glanced around, even turned all the way, then looked back at the glow again. They were back at the hill they'd fallen down in the first place. That meant...  _Baby._

Dean fought the urge to go plowing up that hill, and that was  _only_  'cause he remembered how much it  _sucked_  to do that last time.

"Okay..." Chloe whispered, seemingly on the same page as him. "I can't believe this, but he went back to the Impala. If we can incapacitate him, I can have him packed up and ready to ship in a couple of hours." The vial disappeared from view as Chloe slipped it back into her pocket, and instead, she pulled free one of the Berettas Dean had provided her with, checking the safety and the clip. Well, she certainly seemed to be  _buckets_  of confidence this time. Or maybe it was all that crazy again.

Dean swallowed, his mind racing as he tried to think of what they were gonna be going into. Nothing about the next five minutes seemed like a good idea. In fact, every plan he had running through his head? Ended with him gettin' whomped into a tree, or gettin' torn apart. Bad news bears.

Clearing his throat, he reached up, pulling Chloe back a bit with a hand on her shoulder. To get close to her. No, to make her listen.  _That one, the second one._ If he was gonna get his baby back, he needed Legs on the same page as him. "Okay, fine, if we're gonna do this, then we're gonna do it my way." He gave her a pointed look. "We talked about this. I need you to be my Sidekick on this." Her muscles tensed under Dean's hand and he paused. Was she scared of doing this?

"Okay, fine. Just..." Chloe swallowed, her gaze finally meeting his. "I'm not your Sidekick, okay? Partner. Sam isn't here."

Her  _ego_  had bristled. Oh, well, hooray for her. "Yeah, whatever. Point is,  _my_  plan." Chloe nodded, her features settling into that cold woman that worried the hell out of him. "Okay, fine, look, here's how this is gonna go down, Blondie." Time to focus, all his polite society-be-nice-to-the-infuriating-blonde shit went right out the window. "We get over the top of that hill, we stay low. Find cover in the trees soon as you can, and scope out where my Baby is. I'm gonna try to drop him with a couple of shots, but if this ain't a Romero-style zombie, then we're gonna have to figure something else out. Means I might just have to wing it." He shrugged. "But, that's cool. I work well under pressure. You got it?"

" _That's_  your plan?" Her stony exterior was betrayed by the bit of a squeak in her voice. Freakin' people. Humans.

" _Yes_ , that's the plan, you got a better one?!" No answer. Damn straight. Dean took hold of her arm, turning her to face the hill again. "Okay, now..." He felt her shiver under his touch, and he was reminded, quite vividly, that she was hurt. "Just... be careful, Legs."

"Same to you, hotshot." And then she was off. Woah, woah, back the bus up, he was supposed to be in charge here!

Chloe was already out of view by the time that Dean had managed to figure out what she'd done. Weeell, that was just...  _awesome._

Okay, he had to focus. He couldn't worry about where she was  _and_  kill the monster -  _no_ , he sarcastically reminded himself,  _magically incapacitate it like I'm the Sandman and I carry freakin' sleeping sand._

Dean scaled the hill easily, even if his muscles were screaming fatigue and exhaustion. After all the running and camping and training and yelling, his body was finally startin' to tell him it had had enough. Man, at least he was  _right_  in front of his Baby, which meant he was practically an LP away from a long damn shower, a bed with magic fingers, and a whole bottle of Tequila. And maybe a Blonde with those legs that went  _all_  the way up and he could finally work out all this damn tension -  _wow, fuck you, downstairs brain,_ _ **not now!**_

As he came upon the crest, the glow from the zombie/monster/giant thing nearly blinded him. He hadn't quite been ready for the Neon Noodle when he'd made it up there, but thankfully, it wasn't facing him anyway. Surveying the clearing, he dropped his duffel where he could get to it again. He caught sight of his poor Baby stuck ass-deep in mud. Oh, his poor Baby. She was gonna get the best TLC he could give her the  _second_  he was outta this filthy cesspool. The monster didn't seem at all interested in her. It was too busy wandering around carrying that thing it had been trying to "build", by Chloe's estimation. Dean stood, momentarily distracted as he watched "Grundy" make its way over to the swamp, setting the wooden contraption on the water. Oookay... what the hell was this thing trying to do?

Whatever it wanted, it didn't work, as the wood drifted onto the swamp, further out of view and completely out of Grundy's reach.

"Grrndy..." The monster heaved, stomping over to the edge of the water again, pounding its fists angrily onto the mud. "WANT... SHINY!"

The  _what?_

That was when Dean saw it. Something was  _definitely_  glowing in the water, down,  _deep_  down, way further than they'd be able to reach. Wait, not glowing... reflecting.

Dean's curiosity got the better of him. He crept closer, taking refuge behind a tree before he peered down into the water.

Gold bullion. And a  _lot_  of it. "Suddenly Gold swamp makes way more sense..." He whispered. That  _thing_  wanted that gold. Dean's experience said that that thing? Yeah, it had put the gold there in the first place. "You dumb sonuvabitch, you're tryin' to pick up your last heist."

Grundy heaved another breath, chuffing and turning towards...  _oh, fuck. Shut up, Dean._

Gulping, he pressed himself against the tree and held his breath. One thud, then another, and Grundy was coming around the corner. Dean fought the urge to breathe, trying desperately to stay as still as possible.

Oh god. Nose itching. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...  _Fucking seriously?!_

He felt hot, putrid breath on his shoulder and against his cheek as the zombie lumbered past, pausing just on the other side of the tree.  _Oh, sonuvabitch, of all the times to hafta sneeze -_

Dean reached up, pinching his nose shut, desperately trying to stop the sneeze before it got there. He stood, shivering,  _willing_  the damn thing away until it finally seemed like he'd actually managed to kick it. Holding his hands out just a bit, he steadied himself. Okay, now as long as he -

_Crrack._

No way. A twig?!

A roaring sneeze escaped Dean's whole  _face_  so badly he jumped, and he was pretty sure if he'd  _had_  anything to eat in a while, it wouldn't have just been a sneeze.

Grundy whirled, bellowing wordlessly at him.

_Time to move!_

Thoughts vanished, his instincts as a Hunter kicked right in. He whirled around, prepared to fire. Grundy's arm swept out like a goddamn log in motion, and his finger pulled the trigger. Shot went wild.

Ducking and rolling, Dean came up just behind Grundy's swipe, and he took off sprinting. " _Chloe!_ " He shouted, vaguely wondering where she was as he heard Grundy angrily roar and turn in his direction. He remembered how fast this damn thing moved. Freakin' freight train.

There was no plan at this point. Dean was working on pure instinct. With a shot gone wild and his feet flying, his reactions were completely intrinsic, built in from the years of hunting. Of course, this was  _not_  a normal hunt, but, not like he could do anythin' about that.

An errant shot sounded in the clearing, making him flinch as he pivoted and turned, running towards the muddy edge of the swamp. Fuck, that was close to the Impala! Nononono - Another errant shot, and Dean glanced around, trying to figure out where the hell Blondie was firing from. He barely caught sight of her as she came out from behind the cover of a tree, arm outstretched, aim solid, good shot for the thing behind him. She fired again, the muzzle flashed, Dean whirled around to take a split-second glance to see where the damn bullet would go.

Grundy stumbled, clutching his forehead. No way, did he - The behemoth shook his head, letting loose another roar as it turned to face Chloe. No wound. Damn thing  _bounced off him?!_  It  _beaned him, for God's sake!_

Grundy thundered away from Dean, towards the gnat that had swatted at him practically.

"Chloe!" He shouted, heart thumping in his chest. If she got hit again... no manner of painkiller would help.

Dean's piece went up, he aimed, he smoothly fired, no hesitation. Bullets weren't gonna drop it. But, if he was lucky...

Bullet to the base of the neck, bullet to the spine, bullet to the left shoulder blade.

Grundy skidded to a stop, turning on him, chuffing once more. Teeth bared, he snarled and lumbered around. Chloe was forgotten. But, now this thing wanted  _him._ How was it possible he and Sam had such shitty luck?

"C'mon, you smelly sonuvabitch!" Dean goaded, letting another shot fly.

"Dean, what're you - "

"Shut up, Chloe and just stay outta the way!" He barked, trying to keep an eye on the surroundings. Okay. Plan. Had one. That was good. Well, might not've been a good plan, but he had one.

Grundy charged. Dean moved, sprinting towards the tree line. His heart hammered in his chest as his legs and arms pumped, but his expression was stone and calm. Of course, when he realized he was running towards his Baby, he swerved, fear flooding his senses. He had to hope Grundy had reflexes that would course-correct but not  _too_  well.

Dean caught sight of a fallen log and took a leap, soaring right over the thing as he nearly lost himself in the trees and thick brush. Rolling just past a bush, Dean popped back up like the freakin' slickest Daisy anyone had ever seen. He swiveled one last time, weapon in hand, ready to fire. Grundy came at him like a bull in a china shop, raging and ready to tear up everything. Dean shifted just enough...

Grundy was big, but the tree Dean was hiding behind was bigger. The earth-shattering crack and thud of Grundy hitting the trunk head-first made Dean shiver like it was nails on a chalkboard.

That should've done him in, right? Dean hopped back out of the treeline, stumbling into the clearing, eyes on Grundy even as he heard Chloe coming up to him.

"Oh my god, he's still moving..." Chloe breathed, tension radiating from her words.

"Oh,  _come on_!" Dean groaned, panting as the creature pulled itself free in a spray of bark and kindling. It didn't turn to face them immediately, though, which gave him pause. And then it staggered towards the mud. "No..." Oh god, Baby. It was grabbing his  _Baby again!_  "Nonononono!"

Grundy grabbed hold of the Impala, hauling Dean's beautiful baby over his head, mud dripping in clumps down Solomon Grundy's glowing body. A truly horrific,  _monstrous_  sight, Dean wasn't sure what he was honestly more scared of: Grundy throwin' the Impala at them, or Grundy  _hurtin' his Baby!_

"Solmooon..." Grundy snarled, clearly teetering on the edge of another attack, lookin' like a Neon Tuskan Raider. Dean was waitin' for the unearthly howling. "Grundy will..." Grundy's words slurred and its dead eyes rolled in their sockets. "Grnnn... urghgh..." Useless, unintelligible syllables slid out of the monster's mouth as it swayed on its feet. The Impala creaked as it swayed with the zombie, and Dean's eyes threatened to pop right out.

"No.. nonono, don't you dare pass out with my car!" Dean shouted, but it was too late. That thing was goin' down.

"Dean, move!" Chloe's voice was a squeak behind him, but he was still too mortified that  _his Baby was falling from the damn sky!_  A painful yank on his wrist and Dean backpedaled.

_WHOOM._

The Impala came down just an inch from Dean's feet, landing with a bounce on the tires that would've made his shocks proud. No Grundy in immediate view.

"Ha!" A surprised, elated noise escaped Dean's lips and he peered over the top of the car. Grundy was face-down in mud, having brained himself on the tree trunk. "My baby..." Dean ran his hands over the black, still-polished vehicle. Not a single dent or scratch.

Chloe laughed beside him. "Holy shit, your Mystery Machine can take a wallop." He could see her moving out of the corner of his eye. "All I need is my computer and I can hook up my cell to my transmi-" Oh, goddamn that woman and her brilliant, crazy mouth.

Without thinking, the rush of adrenaline had Dean Winchester in action. Grabbing Blondie by the wrist, he pulled her into his arms and swung her around. And then he shoved Chloe Sullivan and her infuriating plans with her maddening legs against the hood of his car and kissed her breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review, leave me kudos! I love them, they help me write faster! Only one chapter left to go before we're onto the next fic in the series! <3


	7. Sunday

**Solomon Grundy  
** **Born on a Monday  
** **Christened on Tuesday  
** **Married on Wednesday  
** **Took Ill on Thursday  
** **Grew Worse on Friday  
** **Died on Saturday  
** **Buried on Sunday**

_I am sorry. About Chloe._

_**The Fate of the Sentient Power...** _

_You're not gonna hug me now, are ya?_

_**Icarus flies too high...** _

_I'm just saying. I understand that it's at times like these, you miss them most._   _No relationship can escape that possibility. But if there's one thing I've learned in the last, oh, 3000 years, it's that fear should never decide love._

_**Show me Oliver!** _

_So now we're all card-carrying members of the fugitive club..._

_**The Remnant of the Power in the Filth.** _

_**No... Fate... I have to go back... They need me...** _

_We have to protect the secrets we still have._

_**You have Chosen their Fate, Chloe Sullivan. This Path has been set.** _

_**No, Fate... if they separate... if they go dark...** _

_I'm looking for the best and brightest of your generation._

_**I did what you asked of me!** _

_He is Risen. The Mighty One bound by The Omega. He is Risen._

_**Chosen Girl, you will lose Oliver. But there will be another.** _

_I'm going to take care of you. I'm going to take care of you. I gotcha. It's my job, right, watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother... Sam... Sam..._

_**Why would you show me this, Fate?** _

_It can't always be you, Clark. This is all of our fight. Listen. This is what we do. And my passing means I'll be with Sheyera again._

_I owe you so much I don't know how to begin to thank you._

_**Icarus has burned in the fire of the Darkness, Chosen Girl.** _

_You hold onto her. Because there has to be a balance, Clark. We can't do what we have to do if there's an emptiness in our heart. Remember that._

_**You have Chosen this Path. Your Fate is as mine.** _

_Sammy!_

_You don't make it easy to ask a simple question._

_**Clark... No... Fate, you're going too fast...** _

_Hope you got your stories straight._

_The Reaper can swing his sickle at me but I am beyond Death's Stroke now._

_**Your Fate Lies Elsewhere.** _

_**A Funeral... No... It's a TRAP!** _

Chloe shot up in bed with a start, terror permeating every sense, bright golden light still flooding her vision, the world around her non-existent. Images flashed before her too rapidly to take in, and the Touch of Fate left her almost as swiftly as it had taken her dreams. The wordless anguish she felt as Carter's wings burned and seared across her vision gave way to raw fear until the images finally dissipated. All that remained was the simple, peeling wallpaper, the rickety wooden door, scuffed pergo floor, and the twin bed she had wrapped herself into.

Her entire body quaked as Chloe let out another gust of air, shuddering and peeling the sheet away from her chest. She was drenched in sweat although the room itself was quite chilly, and every part of her body felt weak, as if she hadn't rested at all.

Running a hand through her blonde hair, pulling a few strands stuck to her forehead away, Chloe's grey eyes stole a glance at the clock. It was early in the morning, but just late enough that she knew she couldn't go back to sleep.

Her heart suddenly clenched as Carter suddenly plummeted past her, and she felt the pull, the sudden drop as she fell with him. Her eyes fluttered closed, but the Touch of Fate flowed through her once more.

_**Icarus Flies Too High...** _

"No," She whispered to the air. "Fate, I don't think I can do this." As the morning began to take hold around her, she tried to shake the foreboding she felt the moment her thoughts strayed to Dean and Sam. "There has to be another way."

_**Your Fate Lies Elsewhere.** _

The images of her dreams rushed back as blistering, white-hot pain scored across her temple.

_**IcarusYellowEyesIcarusNameOf BloodPathIsSetChloeFateIsMin eInTheFilthOfGotham** _

Chloe could barely hear her sobs over the rushing of Fate between her ears and in her mind. Images kept flooding and absorbing everything around her. Possible futures, every present, all of the past, so much at once that she couldn't possibly remember them all, and certainly couldn't process it.

Pleading silently for Fate to stop, that she would do what he had shown her, no matter the cost, the torrent of emotion and destinies far greater than her own kept coming. Each wave crashed over her with the force of a tsunami. Chloe felt herself drowning all over again, with no Amazon to help pull her from the turbulent seas.

But, the images wouldn't cease. Ever-present, filling every vein, every space between every atom, Chloe tumbled from the bed, curling up on herself as she tried to ride through the inescapable, unfathomable depth of Nabu's knowledge. Reminders of why she had had to leave everyone she'd ever cared for, reminders of why she had to make a deal with the devil to save them now. But, there were others, images she couldn't possibly understand. The span of black wings to encompass her entire vision, piercing blue eyes that looked through her soul and back again.

Someone was calling her name... through all the fire and fury, she could hear someone calling her name.

_**The Darkness Comes, Chosen Girl. Love Is Hard. Are you willing to sacrifice your sanity?** _

What was once the deep, rich tones of Fate became a cacophony of sound, a symphony of terror, of the Voice of Life, Death, Time and Retribution. Words became obsolete in the face of the Voice of Fate, driving home to the very core of Chloe's soul that if she did not follow through on the Path she had set for herself, there would be no end to her torment.

And somewhere between the the black between stars and the sun, Chloe finally agreed.

Chloe blinked as where once was more sound and sight than she could ever comprehend was... silence. And the still walls.

And then a voice. "Chloe?" Followed by a knock.

Chloe breathed. Ted.

Chloe forced herself off of the floor and to her feet, tugging down her black tank top and adjusting the waist of her black pajama pants. The pain of Fate's assault on her mind had faded, her body no longer felt sore and bone-weary, but she still felt as though her fight with Dean the night before about the value of sleep when she needed to ensure Batman could, in fact, secure Grundy for her, had been for nothing. If she had realized that her repayment for sleep would be to be lectured by a Cosmic being who had left a piece of himself in her mind, she would have definitely chosen to stay awake for the night and to talk to Dean.

Of course... Chloe swallowed and checked her face in the mirror over the tiny sink in this little studio Ted had let her crash in for the night. Talking to Dean meant that he would want to discuss the kiss from the night before. It had been plain on his face.

"Yo, Chlo, you all right in there, baby doll?" Ted's gruff, thick voice punctuated by his Gotham accent made Chloe's heart finally cease its relentless pounding.

"I..." Her voice had disappeared. Chloe swallowed and turned to face the door, sure he was leaning against it with a hand on the knob, ready to charge in if necessary. "I'm fine, Ted. I'm just going to take a shower. I'll be down soon."

A gravelly rumble of a chuckle followed, a noise that settled Chloe's nerves even more, grounding her in reality and the hardwood floor of Ted Grant's Wildcat Boxing Club & Youth Gym. "All right, just don't use all the hot water. I got a bunch o' hormonal, sweaty teens downstairs who sure as hell better shower up before they leave, or they'll stink up the entire street."

Chloe grinned in spite of herself, in spite of the weight she knew she was carrying deep in her psyche. If only Ted knew that while he had been teaching kids in the slums of Gotham the discipline of boxing where they had no other father figures and mothers who worked two or three jobs to make ends meet... Carter was plummeting from a skyscraper in Metropolis. "You got it." Chloe absently replied as she headed over to the shower.

It wasn't until she was drenched in the spray of scalding hot water that she tried to piece together the images she'd been given. The weight of Carter's impending death had been with her for the last few days, ever since the vision where she'd seen her own mother. Several times, she'd considered calling Clark or Oliver, warning them of what she'd seen, but she knew she couldn't.

Chloe couldn't see all of the consequences of her actions, but Fate had been right about one thing: she'd put herself on this Path, and now she had to see it through. Whatever the cost.

As Chloe finished her shower and dressed in a pair of black pants, tugging on a black tank top, she tried to ignore the way her heart was twisting and aching in her chest. She'd lost Oliver, she knew exactly what that meant, and she understood that it was the cost for saving  _everyone_  from the Darkness that was coming.

So why did she feel like something terribly wrong was going to happen the moment she left Gotham? And why did that cold, icy fear seem to worsen when she thought about Sam? Or Dean?

Chloe's footsteps were light scampers down to the main floor of the gym, but no one noticed her presence right away. The gym was teeming with activity. The youth of Gotham all crammed into a boxing gym, pounding away their worries, their self-esteem issues, their problems with their families, into the sand-filled boxing bags or each other. The sounds of rope barely scraping the floor as some of them jump-roped, others hitting the speedbags rigged around the room, all of them were familiar and pleasant to her, making that icy fear in her stomach melt slightly. She'd spent a month here after she and Diana arrived back in the United States, letting Ted teach her everything he knew.

If there was one thing that Chloe knew about herself, it was this: Fate's journey had led her to people who hadn't just helped her, they'd taught her how to help herself. Chloe wasn't just the eyes behind the screen anymore.

"Baby doll, there you are." Ted grinned as he waved her over from the ring, where he was taping up his hands. A younger student was bouncing on his feet behind Ted.

Chloe approached with ease, tilting her head in curiosity and leaning against the ropes of the rings, watching him. This felt good, it made the week in the swamp almost a bad dream. "Thanks for putting me up last night, Ted. I promise, as soon as Bruce calls, I'll be on my way."

"Ha! That Trumped up, suited monkey? Yeah, yeah, you keep tellin' yourself he's not gonna try to rope you into another one of his schemes." Ted laughed, a deep, throaty guffaw, and finished taping his hands, strolling towards her so he could look down at her. "I'm just glad you got yourself outta that mess. The literal and the figurative one."

"Oh, I told you I could handle a little monster trouble, Ted." Chloe winked at him, a remarkably saucy thing for her to do. In fact, she  _never_  winked at people, what the hell. She reached up, massaging her temple with her fingers as she tried to figure out where that had come from. "Anyway, I appreciate everything you've done for me. And when Bruce comes by, I promise to make sure his visit is  _brief_." Chloe knew that while Ted didn't mind Bruce, he was far from tolerant to Bruce's brooding, possessive nature about Gotham. She couldn't blame him. If Clark had had that opinion about Metropolis, Oliver would've left ages ago...

Chloe shook the sudden pang of loss away as she heard the door open.

"Chloe?" Dean barked from somewhere behind her, and she turned, a smile plastered back on her face to greet him that morning. Only he wasn't smiling. He looked very worried. Heart-pounding, distressed, two-seconds-away-from-punching-something worried. "We got a problem.  _Big_  problem."

Chloe's eyebrows shot up, her eyes widened. "Okay, hold up, hotshot, I need a little more to go on than that. What's going on?"

"Sam's not at the motel." The moment the words were out of Dean's mouth, Chloe's stomach dropped to her feet.  _No._  "He's not pickin' up his phone, I dunno where the fuck he is, but he's sure as hell not  _here._ " Dean looked about two seconds away from a panic attack. Not that she could blame him, but she knew her sense of foreboding wasn't coming from any place she could explain to him.

She caught sight of Ted's office, where she knew her laptop was locked away. "Okay, hang on a sec, maybe I can track his GPS on his phone." Chloe turned to Ted, motioning to his office. "Ted, I'm gonna borrow the office, let me know when Bruce gets here, please."

Without thinking, Chloe grabbed Dean's arm and tugged him towards the office as she strode purposefully in that direction. This was  _her_  fault. If she hadn't pulled Dean into this mess, maybe Sam and Dean would have worked that case together. She had to see what she could do.

Once the two of them were there, she motioned for Dean to shut the door behind her. Once she heard the thunk of privacy, she took a seat at Ted's desk and punched in the safe combination under his desk. She pulled her laptop free and powered it up."Of course, this won't help if he's turned it off, but at least it's a start." She hoped it was just that Sam was stuck in whatever previous case he had decided to work solo, but there was that nagging feeling, that sensation of Fate telling her  _not_  to press further. Chloe set her GPS tracker in motion, watching the screen as it attempted to hone in on Sam's location. "What was he working on, anyway?" Chloe glanced back at Dean, only to find him suddenly inches from her, hovering over her. She caught a whiff of him, now that he'd shaved and bathed, and felt something wash through her that she knew she was going to regret later.

 _I'm going to miss him..._  The realization hit her so hard she didn't realize she was still staring back at him, her eyes scanning his features. His jaw was set, brow furrowed, eyes focused on the screen.

"What is that?" Dean asked, only  _then_  letting his eyes wander from the screen to meet hers. From the confused look on his face, Chloe found herself woefully unequipped to deal with whatever was going on between the two of them  _and_  deal with Sam's disappearance  _and_  somehow figure out how she was going to find Flagg.

Chloe turned back to her screen, brushing the emotional response away so she could focus on more important things. "That's... the system telling me Sam's phone is off, and has been for a while." She frowned as she heard Dean growl behind her. "Do you know how he paid for wherever he was staying?"

"Cash, like always. And I checked every motel I could find a phone number for in Bludhaven. None of his known aliases stayed there, so I dunno where the fuck he could be." Dean slammed the palm of his hand into one of Ted's lockers, but it didn't seem to help him. " _Dammit,_ Sam!"

Chloe sighed, tapping her fingers to her mouth as she pored over her mental lexicon of all her known methods for tracking individuals. That cold fear had settled back into her stomach again, that fear that something was  _very wrong_ , that she had  _known_  what was wrong, but why couldn't she remember? God,  _what was it?_

"You'll have to go to Bludhaven." The words were out of Chloe's mouth before she even realized she'd been thinking it. The compulsion to send Dean on the way to finding his brother was so strong, she really didn't know exactly where it was coming from. She  _wanted_  to help, but there was something telling her that he had to do this. On his own. "Go. If you leave now, you'll miss any traffic from people coming back for the weekend, and you might be able to track down a lead." She tilted her head. "Is there anyone else Sam might've called about the case?"

Dean was pacing now, but that had apparently set some light bulb off. "Yeah. He mighta called Bobby. Or Ellen at the Roadhouse."

Chloe stood, crossing the small distance between them to get him to stop pacing like a caged animal. "Okay, then, that's what you do. You get in the Impala, you burn rubber to Bludhaven, and you pursue every lead you have and find your brother." Chloe might have sounded cool and calm, but firm, but on the inside, she was busy trying not to beat herself up. With every second they spent there, Sam could be in worse danger. She'd been so wrapped up dealing with her immediate needs: Grundy, Oliver, Clark, the visions Fate sent her, she couldn't seem to decode anything involving the Winchester brothers. It was almost like Fate... didn't want her to see it.

 _You said I was needed elsewhere. Was this what you meant?_ She silently begged Fate for an answer.

"Okay. No, that's... no, you're right." Dean nodded, a fist to his mouth as he mulled it over. With a plan in mind now, he seemed to have calmed down considerably. "All right. Then, we better get going - "

"Dean, I can't come with you." Chloe cut him off softly before he went any further. Her heart had jumped into her throat, but she knew exactly why she couldn't go with him. This thing with Flagg... if she didn't help everyone now...

"What?" He snapped, confusion totally invading his features. "Since when?"

"Dean, I..." How was she supposed to tell him? She couldn't explain Fate to him, when she barely understood it herself.

Chloe's computer chimed from behind her. Both of them glanced back, but Chloe's eyes immediately locked on the flashy skull and crossbones icon she'd set up. She swallowed.

It was all coming together at once. She'd found Flagg's location. Dean needed to find Sam.

Like Fate.

"What is that?" Dean's voice shook her out of her thoughts, and Chloe took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was about to come. She'd come this far... it  _had_ to be this way.

"That's... the proverbial whistle blowing on my last train out of town." Chloe said solemnly as she walked back to the desk, checking the readout. "Flagg... he just sounded the horn. He's looking for my friends, which means he basically just waved a big slab of bacon in front of my digital hounds." The wit came without effort, and it was a way for Chloe to center herself while she focused. While she  _prioritized._

Clark. Oliver. Lois. All of them needed her. She could see that something was coming for them. Everything had happened the way Fate had shown her up until this point, and she had no reason to doubt the visions now. If they were true... Dean could find Sam on his own, but she needed to help the others. Or there wouldn't be a world for Dean and Sam to live in much longer.

"I need to go. I have to take this opportunity," Chloe turned to look back at Dean. "I'm not gonna get another shot..." The last word barely wavered at the look on his face.

Chloe couldn't remember the last time Dean had looked at her like that, but she knew she'd seen that look before. It was one part angry, one part upset and three parts hurt.

"You're just..." Dean paused. His brain seemed to have stalled. "You're just gonna... go. You're not gonna help me."

"I want to, but... " Chloe gave up whatever half-started statement she wanted to make, and started to make another, trying for a more personal approach. "Oliver, he - "

"You don't  _owe_ him _ **anything,**_ Chloe." Dean snapped, one of his hands coming up to point at her, emphasizing how he felt. The vehemence actually had her left speechless for the moment. "You get that? You left him to protect him, you  _gave up your life._  That doesn't mean your fucking  _existence_ has to revolve around him."

Chloe bristled, brow furrowed at the sudden attack on what she'd been explaining to him all week now. "Excuse me?"

"Look, you've done  _enough_ , right? This plan of yours? It's bullshit, and it's  _suicide_." Dean was apparently on a roll, because even though she opened her mouth to interrupt him, he was still going. "This is a  _horrible_  plan!"

"Dean, I don't have a choice, I made this bed and I'm gonna lay in it. If I can do this, it will give me  _exactly_  what I need to stop the VRA." She shot him a confused and annoyed look, but her voice was pleading. "Why the sudden 180? I thought you understood."

"No, I let it go because we were stuck in a swamp, but I  _don't_  get it." Dean's frown deepened, and he scrubbed his hand down his mouth while he clearly chose his next words carefully. "I get that you wanna help them, wanna protect them, but I need to find Sammy.  _You_  could use backup, and if you can just wait for me to - "

"Woah, woah, woah,  _no._ " Chloe gasped, holding her hand up. "Absolutely  _not._  You and Sam are  _not_  getting in the middle of this."

"You just had me stuck with you ass-deep in mud for a week!" Dean bellowed. " _I'm in the middle of it!"_

Chloe jumped at the shout. It was  _definitely_  not the reaction she'd expected, but it was making her wonder if she was really just... that bad at reading Dean. Silence hung between them like a thick curtain, but she didn't know how to part it. He seemed just as shocked by his reaction as she did.

Finally, she took a deep breath, struggling to bridge that gap. "I am  _sorry_  I involved you. It was necessary, but... clearly, Sam needs you. But I  _have_  to do this." She shook her head as she felt her eyes warm slightly. "I wish I could make you understand, but... it's not your  _job_  to worry about me."

"And what if I want to, huh? How exactly do you plan on stoppin' me? I'm not allowed to care that you're gonna go get yourself killed and I have to go track down Sam alone?"

"Dean, you can't possibly care about me even remotely as much as you care about Sam, so I don't see a choice for you to make. Just  _go._ " Chloe rattled off, knowing that it sounded harsh.

There was another heavy pause as multiple things happened at once. Dean had suddenly stalked over, grabbed Chloe by the arm with one hand. His other hand slipped into her hair and before she knew it, her lips were captured in another breathtaking kiss, one that bruised her lips with anger, worry, confusion, more than she really could possibly figure out about Dean Winchester in just one repeat performance.

And then just as suddenly, she was disheveled and mourning the loss of his lips on hers as he stepped away.

Dean fished into his jacket pocket and pulled free his keys, looking at her with a hard, unforgiving gaze. "Don't you  _dare_  tell me how I'm  _supposed_  to feel, okay?" He huffed, and for a second, Chloe wondered if he'd had any idea he was going to do that at all. "Just... I expect another bitchy phone call from you, got it? Because I'm sure Sammy's gonna wanna kick your ass for not coming to his pansy-ass rescue, too. But, I expect you to be careful. Take care of yourself." He opened the door to the office just in time to nearly run into Bruce. Swivelling past the billionaire without so much as an 'excuse me', Chloe watched him go with her heart aching, not really sure what to do with the swimming emotions in her chest.

It was no surprise that even after Dean was gone, and she was still staring blankly at the doorway, Bruce had to actually wave his hand in front of her with a charming grin to get her attention.  _Dammit, Dean._

_I wasn't supposed to miss you._

" _ **Lonely is the night, when you find yourself alone. Your demons come to light, and your mind is not your own."**_

Dean sighed as he pulled the Impala up to the deserted access road under an overpass just outside of Bludhaven. It was dreary, rainy, even in the midday, but after checking every single motel he could, he was completely out of options.

He hopped out of the car and flipped his phone open, ignoring the song still playing on the radio as he dialed the Roadhouse for the sixth time.

"Ellen, it's me again. Any chance you've heard from him?" He sighed. "I swear, it's like looking for my dad all over again. I'm losin' my mind here." His heart raced as he listened to the woman on the other line ask him, of course, if he'd heard from Sam, but his mind was still racing with all the reasons he should've been helping his brother go after that lead for Ava, and instead had gotten himself wrapped up with Chloe. Again. "No, I've called him a thousand times. It's nothing but voicemails. I don't know where he went or why." He ignored the plop of a raindrop on his head as he looked around absently. "Sam's just  _gone._ "

He didn't see the newspaper that floated by, stating that mandatory curfew was  _now_  going into effect in Metropolis... three days after Chloe had told Dean it would happen.

" _ **Lonely is the night, when there's no one left to call, you feel the time is right, says the writing's on the wall..."**_

Six hours away from Bludhaven, in a secure location just outside of Metropolis, Chloe Sullivan stalked the red-lit halls of the Suicide Squad's not-so-secret lair. The screech of metal being bent beyond its original design was music to her ears as Grundy tore through the facility, allowed complete free reign to do as he wished. Once she'd given the Gold K sample to Zatanna to analyze, the magician had been able to enchant Grundy to full cognitive capability and explained the situation.

Two black-clad guards came from around the corner, and Chloe pulled both her berettas with ease. She took a deep breath, squeezing the triggers smoothly, and took out their kneecaps before they could raise their guns. She heard the echoes of a very familiar mentor reminding her to stay calm, breathe through each shot.

With even pacing and a steady heart, she took her time as she made her way through the facility. She avoided more thugs than she encountered, and every time, she always fired a shot that was hardly lethal, but definitely debilitating enough to keep them out of the way.

Finally, she'd reached her destination. She grabbed hold of her smartphone and slipped it free from its holster on her hip as she strolled into Flagg's office. He was waiting for her, arms clasped behind his back.

"Well, well, well, Miss Sullivan. Looks like I need to fire a few people, because you were supposed to be dead." Flagg smiled coldly.

"Don't bother," Chloe smoothly replied, the barrel of her gun trained on him more for effect rather than anything else. "Because, in about fifteen seconds, all of your men will be reporting to me. I can take care of HR decisions from now on."

The bright, icy blue eyes of Rick Flagg barely even hinted surprise or concern at her threat. "Is that so? And how do you figure that will be happening?"

"Because while my friend, the illustrious Solomon Grundy, has been pillaging your facility," Chloe held up her phone, checking the display. The transfer was complete. "I've been uploading a virus into your missile system. It gives me full control of them, and will prevent you from  _ever_  using them to kill anyone ever again." Chloe slipped the phone back in her pocket, gun still trained.

Flagg tilted his head, nodding with a levelheaded motion that told her he understood what she was doing. "And... what exactly is the endgame to all of this, might I ask?"

Chloe smiled, making a reminder that once negotiation was over, she needed to make sure to send Lois a wedding present. "I need your help. Saving those heroes you see as freedom fighters from the real enemy."

**_And That Was the End of Solomon Grundy..._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued In... The Roads We Take
> 
> Please leave kudos, reviews, comments, carrier pigeons! Let me know what you think! The next fic will most likely begin in the next month! Thanks again!


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